


Homecoming

by whintersoldiers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Betrayal, Emotion Packed, Enhanced Reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, Friendship, Healing, Heavy Angst, Long Timeline (40's to Present), POV Second Person, Pining, Plot-heavy, Reader Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulful Motorcycle Make-Outs, Tags will be added by chapter, Torture, Unresolved Romantic Tension, action packed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9999725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whintersoldiers/pseuds/whintersoldiers
Summary: At the tail end of the Great Depression, you meet a pair of inseparable friends, each providing a new breath of fresh air into your life. You don’t delude yourself with false hopes when you fall for one of them, each of his heated gazes and half-smirks making your heart flutter. But, you are even less surprised when he causes your heart— alongside your trust— to crumble into a billion, jagged pieces.Then, when you fall into DIVISION’s unrelenting hands, a budding initiative program that rivals both SHEILD and HYDRA alike, and find yourself brimming with an unorthodox power, you find it hard to hold onto yourself. And, then?Opportunity strikes.Is revenge truly best served cold? You’d be damned if you weren’t going to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You come to meet the infamous Bucky Barnes through your good friend and confidant, Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M(ature) for later chapters. 
> 
> This story starts out pretty fluffy and gets, as far as I've been told, and tear-inducingly angsty. I think that's gassing the story and my writing to be honest, but it's a very sweet sentiment nonetheless to know that it affected them in that manner. Either way- fair warning.

****__**Brooklyn — October 1939** _ _

_This was the fifth goddamn time this week._

_The short, lanky man— or rather boy— came and returned the couple of books he’d taken on physical fitness again. You were pretty sure that this kid was going to run out of reading material within... days._

_You felt rather sad for him, not intentionally studying the person, but unable to help yourself. Clearly, he was looking to get physically bigger, but his ill-fitting clothes and the seemingly permanent pout on his face signaled to you that he was coming up unsuccessful._

_You watched his cheeks color, as he walked around the library, lost. The library you worked at had done some remodeling, and as a result, some shelves (among other items) had been moved. He looked around, clearly trying to find a librarian to help him. You normally would look back down and would pray that the person would find someone else, but he was harmless. He looked like a lost puppy— what with his neatly combed blond hair, glossy blue eyes, and_ come on _; you weren’t that cruel._

_Besides, the library was about to close, and you were the only librarian left._

_You offered a smile, hoping he’d approach you as he looked in your direction. He immediately looked behind him, as if somebody smiling at him wasn’t a natural occurrence. You saw him gulp nervously as he walked over to your waiting figure._

_“Hello, I uhm, I was… hoping you could help me find some books on uh…” He trailed off, clearly embarrassed by his request._

_“Physical fitness?” You finished, widening your smile to appear more friendly. He seemed to relax somewhat as he nodded. You gestured for him to follow you, and he did so without question, going to the new location of his desired books. You watched him as he surveyed the books, and chose them before checking them out, slightly squirming under your gaze. Every time he looked up to see if you were still surveying him, which you were, he instantly looked back down._

_A little while later, as the clock above your head struck 8 o’clock, you grabbed your things, ready to lock up the library, when the blond man cleared his throat._

_“Th-Thank you, for the help. With the books.”_

_“No problem,” You answered genuinely, turning back to your things._

_“How did you know what I was looking for?” He asked, his voice finally gaining some traction, yet still filled with curiosity._

_“You’ve come into the library five times in the last week looking for the same thing.” You said, careful not to laugh, but rather smile. His cheeks reddened further, and good god, he was just about the most endearing thing you had ever seen. “I had a pretty good idea about what you needed.”_

_“Oh. Well, thank you again…” He trailed off, not aware of your name._

_You finished the sentence for him with your name, prompting a shy smile from him._

_“Steve. Steve Rogers.”_

* * *

  ** _Brooklyn — March 1941_**

You smiled as Steve gave you a quick hug of greeting, his head slipping into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t help yourself from beaming as you watched Steve walk away to asses the new pile of books that came had arrived earlier in the week. You thought about how much more comfortable he was around you now than he was when you had first met him.

18 months of friendship did that to a person.

“Just these,” Steve said, when he was done, handing you the two books he’d chosen not even 10 minutes later. You raised an eyebrow at him as you checked them out. Steve usually took forever to pick his books.

“Whatever happened to ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover,’ huh?” You asked, teasingly bringing up what Steve liked to preach whenever you complained he was taking too long, as you handed Steve the books back. He colored slightly.

“I don’t have the time to take a good look at ‘em today; Bucky’s dragging me out onto another double date.” He said, already knowing you’re going to roll your eyes in disapproval. “I know what you’re gonna say, Y/N. But, he’s my pal.” Steve explained.

“If he was really your _pal_ , then he wouldn’t be dragging you out for these sorry excuses for double dates.” You piped up, catching the disapproving look in his eye.

“It’s fine, Y/N. Truly.”

“It’s not, Steve. You know I just wanna see you happy—”

“I do. And I love you for it. But, Bucky’s waiting for me down in the lot. I should go.” Steve said. You nodded, lips tightly pressed together.

“Chin up, Y/N.” He said, a rare smile gracing his face.

“Stevie! What’s taking so long?” A booming voice asked from the entryway of the library. Despite never having met him before, you didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The only person the voice could have belonged to was James Buchanan Barnes.

 _Bucky,_ You thought bitterly, as you turned to face him.

The first thing you noticed about him was that he looked nothing like Steve. At a towering height of six feet, Bucky Barnes was a large man, accompanied by two beautiful women on either arm. His dark hair was styled back with some sort of pomade, and the glint in his starking blue stare was nothing short of dangerous. His clothes fit him terribly well, and when he cocked his head at the sight of Steve talking to you, you could see the sharp cut of his jaw.

He studied you with newfound interest, and you fidgeted under his heated gaze. He whispered into the ears of the ladies on his arms, who giggled in response as they scattered to different corners of the library.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” You muttered spitefully to yourself, earning a look from Steve that told you to _behave_. Bucky approached you and Steve, swagger in his step, and something of a smirk on his face.

“Is this the elusive Y/N Y/LN?” He asked, his smirk widening into a grin. Steve nodded, finally introducing you two. Bucky outstretched his hand, and you met it with your own, because _dammit_ , you were nothing if not polite. He brought your hand up to his lips, and kissed your knuckles softly in greeting.

“So, you’re the woman responsible for the new pep in Steve’s step?” He asked, earning a shove from Steve. You raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Let’s go, Buck. You don’t wanna keep the ladies waiting, now do you?” Steve asked quickly, hoping to direct his old friend’s attention away from his newer one. He wanted to keep you and Bucky as far apart as possible.

You was the most fragrant flower in the garden, if not the brightest or largest. 

And, Bucky was a friggin’ bulldozer.

Ever since Bucky had learned of Steve and Y/N’s friendship, he’d been making non-stop cracks at Steve to ask her out, despite Steve’s never ending claims of their platonicity. Bucky would always roll his eyes, and say something along the lines of “just you wait.”

Needless to say, whenever Bucky said something cryptic, it _worried_ Steve.

To Steve, your job occupation gave a good glimpse into your personality, as Steve had learned in the span of your friendship. You were usually quiet, reserved, and an introvert in almost every aspect of the word. But, when you were around your close friends, (such as Steve) you were one of the best people he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. Witty and outspoken, you were a surprising breath of fresh air, but if you were to be placed at one of Bucky’s parties, you’d be reduced to utter silence.

Bucky on the other hand, was an utter extrovert. His infectious smile could pull simultaneous grins from any crowd, and was always the life of the party. Women flocked to him, and men strove to be him. The only reason Steve was his best pal was because they’d grown up together, but Steve would have it no other way.

 _Till’ the end of the line,_ Steve thought with a smile, the quote Bucky always liked to tell him popping up in his head.

Whereas Bucky was exactly the friend Steve needed, one step into your life, and he’d absolutely ruin you. Bucky had always harbored a cruel streak, and when it reared it’s head, he was ruthless.

Steve could withstand it. After all, everybody had a dark side, and Bucky withstood Steve’s in the same way. Their friendship was, in every way, unbreakable. But, he knew Bucky, and he knew you. Steve just wanted to minimize the casualties. 

“Steve,” Bucky called, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Tell me right away why you haven’t invited the gorgeous Y/N here to go see tonight’s movie with us?” He asked, lips curling into a charming grin that could bail him out of jail, and raising an eyebrow pointedly at Steve. Steve huffed, slightly annoyed at the color crawling up the apples of your cheeks.

Bucky loved seeing people flustered because of him. He practically got off on it.

What Bucky didn’t understand was that it was the blush of discomfort, rather than flattery.

“Because she has two more hours before she can close up the library, and there are already two gorgeous ladies you’ve brought for the movie. Can we go now?” He asked, crossing his arms, hoping to come off as assertive. Bucky gaped at Steve, before turning to you to see your input. 

But all you did was stare expectantly at Bucky, crossing your arms in agreement with Steve.

“I always say _the more the merrier,_ ” Bucky said, with a wicked grin. You couldn’t help a scoff from leaving your mouth. “But, I can take a hint.” He finally let up, whistling loudly to gather the attention of the ladies he’d be entertaining for the night, earning a stern look from you. _It was a library for Christ’s sake._

And besides… _how demeaning is that?! They weren't dogs._

The ladies didn’t seem to mind though, returning to Bucky’s side with a flirtatious grin. Steve accompanied them from a step behind, and Bucky turned to walk away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“Not if I can help it,” You found yourself muttering, rearranging the things on your desk absentmindedly to hopefully calm yourself.

“What was that?” Bucky asked, turning back around, absolutely giddy at the fact that he’d gotten something of a rise out of you. You widened your eyes. You didn’t think he’d heard you, but you composed yourself all the same.

“I just… you don’t come to library often, _James._ ” You sneered, watching him mouth _‘ouch’_ playfully at your use of his first name. “That’s all.”

“I don’t see you at my parties either,” He countered.

“And, that’s the way it’s going to stay. _Goodbye now._ ” You replied through gritted teeth, seeing Bucky laugh gleefully in response. He saluted to you like a soldier, the side of two fingers pressed against his forehead as a goodbye.

Steve smiled apologetically as he followed his friend out.

You sighed and wished you'd never met James Buchanan Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> I originally began this story about 7 months ago and published the first chapter 6 months ago on another website. But, I decided to bring it here because it's still in progress. Currently, I have 11 chapters written. I will try to publish one chapter everyday until I get to the 11th chapter. I'm currently overcoming a huge writer's block, so hopefully re-reading and immersing myself in the story will help me further. 
> 
> There were a lot of editing mishaps and whatnot the first time it was published, so I am posting here and revising as I go, so I can have a copy that I actually am proud of. This story is one of my longest ever- there are about 4k words per chapter. This first one has only about 2k, but it's the beginning so you know... it would be short. 
> 
> I really hope you like it, and let me know down below if you do! <3
> 
> (Unbeta'd but i'm fixing mistakes as I go after letting it sit for a while, so there should be extremely few, if any.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're just trying to do your job in peace, but Bucky is adamant about making sure you can't.

**_Early 40’s — Brooklyn_ **

You were trying so hard to have a good day. Well and truly.

But, of course, as luck would have it, you were stuck entertaining Bucky Barns for the tail end of your day at the library where you worked. He had strolled in carelessly, with that dumb cocky smirk on his face, and another girl on his arm. She was batting her eyelashes, and sucking her ruby red lips between her teeth, hoping to catch Bucky’s attention.

He pointed towards a random corner of the library, whispering into her ear, gunmetal eyes never leaving yours.

“How are you doing today, Y/N?” He asked, approaching you with a cheshire cat-esque smile.

 _Terrible now that you’re here,_ You wanted to bite.

“Good, thank you.” You finally said, deciding to treat him like every other person. He wasn’t going to get a rise out of you. “What can I help you with today?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me find some books on… the human sexuality.” He admitted. You couldn’t help but gasp at that, a blush climbing up the column of your throat. _You don’t just go around asking that!_

You really hoped no one had heard him.

“You’re shameless!” You whisper-yelled at him, inching closer so he’d hear you. He shrugged, somehow managing to look annoyingly smug and completely careless simultaneously.

“Sorry,” He said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I want to make sure to keep every person that crawls into my bed… satisfied.”

“You mean you and your hand?” You asked, with a cock of your eyebrow. You mentally prided yourself for such an answer, but the pride melted away when you took in his response. He barked out a laugh, clearly entertained by your reply. His eyes followed the direction of your hand, as you pointed to the shelves that contained books about the human body. He thanked you with a wink, starting to walk away, when he seemed to remember something.

“While I go grab my books, you think you could be a doll and grab me a book on sign language?” He asked, his voice serious for the first time.

“What— you find a pretty girl that you couldn’t charm with your vulgar vocabulary?”

Bucky smiled.

“Something like that,”

Almost an hour later, you set out in search of Bucky. The library would close in less than 15 minutes, and it certainly shouldn’t take an hour to pick a couple of books. Especially not from the rather tiny collection of books about “Human Sexuality,” this particular library owned. He might’ve left, but you hadn’t physically seen him do it, and you still had a ‘Guide to American Sign Language’ in your hand for him. It was your job after all, and your boss, that liked to keep a watchful eye on his employees from time to time, wouldn’t be happy to see that you’d failed to do your assigned tasks.

You approached the secluded shelves, completely unprepared for what you’d see.

Bucky, wrapped around the girl he’d brought with him, his lips pressing soft kisses down her throat, while his hands roamed up her skirt, her mouth straining out a litany of prayers that only included his name.

You didn’t know what they had been doing, but the red lipstick marks all over Bucky’s neck and now exposed collarbones gave you a good idea.

You dropped the book in surprise, taking multiple steps backwards, as you did your best to walk away. This caught Bucky’s attention, who didn’t seem to look surprised or sorry. Almost as if he’d been waiting for you to find them, smiling like the cat that had gotten the cream.

“My god, I’m… I’m so sorry,” You muttered, scurrying back to your rightful place at your checkout desk. A couple minutes passed before Bucky and his… lady friend emerged from the corner of the library, composed and calm, his left hand carrying the book on sign language you’d dropped in your shock.

“Dot, why don’t you wait for me down in the lot?” He asked, eyebrows raised pointedly. She nodded, pressing another quick kiss to his cheek before doing so. He wiped the lipstick residue away with his handkerchief.

He was about to make some sort of crack at you, when he noticed you looked… upset.

“You alright?” He asked, with a raise of his head. This drew you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” You answered, looking up. “Yes. Yes… I’m perfect.” You plucked the sign language book back to check it out for him. He didn’t look convinced.

“Are you really that _jealous_ of Dot?” He joked, grinning, hoping to lighten the mood. He had anticipated some sort of remark from you, but was disappointed when you just quietly said, ‘no,’ and handed him the book.

“Have a good day,” You said dismissively, your voice robotic. He nodded, looking contemplative. He seemed to carefully weigh his next reply before speaking.

“Well, look, If you need to talk to Steve about… whatever, I’m gonna be out for the night. You could go visit.”

You thought for a minute.

“You know what? I just might.” You replied, meeting his contemplative glance.

* * *

An hour later, you found yourself at Steve’s doorstep. You raised a fist to knock at the door, when you took a step back.

_What the hell am I doing?_

But, it seemed that Steve had telepathic powers, because in that exact moment, the door swung open, revealing a smiling Steve.

“Do you think I’m wasting my life away?” You asked instantly. Steve’s smile dropped, and he ushered you in. Steve led you inside the shoebox sized apartment, sitting you down on one of the few pieces of furniture he shared with Bucky.

“Earlier today, I saw Bucky with his tongue down some girl’s throat,” You started, and you heard Steve groan.

“He went to the library didn’t he?” Steve asked, placing down a cold glass of lemonade in front of you, before taking a seat next to you. You nodded, taking a sip of the drink Steve liked to call lemonade, but was truly just sour lemon water, with almost no sugar. The boy had no taste for sweetness. “Is that why you’re upset?" Steve seemed perplexed as he asked.

“What? No!” You protested, almost offended that he’d even think such a thing. “Well, actually, kind of… Yes.” Steve waited for you to elaborate.

“Bucky is being reckless and his usual self, like you always tell me. But, when he’s graying and wrinkly, he’s gonna be happy. He’s gonna laugh at the times he was in trouble, the times he broke the rules, because he enjoyed himself. What am I gonna do when I’m old? Reminisce about the smell the books provided in that library? Or regret what I spent my best years doing?”

Steve seemed to carefully weigh his answer before speaking.

“Listen to me. If you’re miserable doing the things that Bucky does, why would you force yourself to do them? You don’t want to be… 'graying and wrinkly,' and remember the times that you were miserable at random parties, watching people get drunk beyond reason. For some people, they have the time of their lives, but that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone. To each their own.”

“I know you’re right, I just…”

“Promise me, you’re not going to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“I promise, Steve. Thank you.”

* * *

“Heard you were looking for some trouble,” Bucky said, approaching your desk with his signature grin two days later. You looked up, surprised. After what happened during his last visit, you didn’t think Bucky would be returning to the library anytime soon. If you were in his position, you certainly wouldn’t have.

But, it looked like he really was shameless.

And, you hated the small part of yourself that admired him for it.

“And, where exactly did you hear that?”

“Where d’ya think?” He asked, his Brooklyn accent peeking out beneath his words.

“Steve told you?! I told him that in confidence!” You exclaimed, your mouth gaping open at Steve’s audacity.

“Aw, don’t go getting mad at little Stevie now. Might'a have guilt-tripped him a'lil. Told him I’d go and personally apologize to ya, if he told me why you were so upset.”

“So, you’re an ass _and_ a liar.”

“No, ma'am,” He answered with a laugh. “Just a regular ol’ ass.” You had no reply to that, only rolling your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

“Look, Y/N, I really _am_ sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,”

“It’s fine, Bucky.” You answered with a sigh, waving away his apology. “It’s your business what you do with your… companions. I just wish you’d chosen a place more private. Especially because you didn’t even come to the library for books or to even _learn_ anything.” He smiled.

“Don’t go undermining me now, Y/N. I finished that book on sign language, and I’m gonna be taking another one before I leave here today.”

“So, you _only_ came to the library to actually educate yourself? No secret agenda?”

“See, now you’re overestimating me.” He laughed, only to receive a disapproving glare from you. “Steve seems to think you’re perfectly content sitting in this library, gathering dust. But, _I_ say, if you were so content, you wouldn’t felt like there was something missing, am I right?”

You gulped, because god damnit, he was _right._ And, his answering smile was _entirely_ predatory.

“Consider me your new life coach.”

“So, you’ve come to corrupt me?” You asked, with a raise of your eyebrow.

“A little corruption can be good.”

“Said no one ever.”

“Said me, right here, right now.” Bucky countered, holding out his hand. “D’ya trust me?”

“Not one bit.” You retorted, slipping your hand into his offered palm nonetheless. He smirked triumphantly, twin dimples blooming onto his cheeks.

_“Perfect.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter again, but things pick up in the next two chapters! Lots of love! Leave your thoughts below! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's having a little too much fun bossing you around and corrupting you.

**_Early 40’s — Brooklyn_ **

“Bucky, there’s not a chance in hell I am doing that!” You replied immediately, in response to Bucky’s dare. For the past months, Bucky had been slowly encouraging you to do things that would ensure you took ‘full advantage of life.’

He’d been smart about it. He began with small feats, such as asking people openly that you were available for help at your local library. In the beginning, this task was hard for you, but now standing in the small coffee shop you and Bucky had discovered, and contemplating Bucky’s latest wish, it seemed like the easiest mission ever assigned.

To Bucky, things like this didn’t faze him one bit, but what you’d never admit to him— or anyone really— was that you were having the time of your life.

“Oh, _come on,_ Y/N.” He insisted, nudging you lightly. He knew you always took a bit of prodding, but would ultimately do it. “It’ll be fun!” You shot him a look, and he laughed in response, before continuing to list reasons why you should comply to his dare.

 _“Kiss a complete stranger on the cheek,”_ Bucky had said, his eyebrows raised, and an amused smile playing on his lips.

Steve’s words played at the back of your mind: _“Promise me, you’re not going to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with.”_

You sure as hell didn’t feel comfortable with this.

“But, it’s a complete invasion of someone’s personal space!” You argued. “There’s just some stuff you don’t do.” Bucky rolled his eyes, and snatched your cup of coffee from your hand, making you frown at him.

“Then apologize after, or give him a warning before. You didn’t come all this way to back out now, did you?”

“I hate you so much, James.” You deadpanned, shaking your head, and Bucky grinned, knowing he’d gotten through to you.

“‘Atta girl!” You heard Bucky whisper-yell to you, as you stood and made your way to the man he’d pointed towards, clenching your shaking hands to appear less nervous, and repeating a mantra to yourself to put the situation in perspective.

_It’s okay. It’s just a normal man. Nothing to be afraid of._

You tapped the back of the man’s shoulder, causing him to turn to you with a broad smile. His dimples accompanied his bright grin, eyes twinkling. He seemed nice, you’d give him that. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile back, only clearing your throat before speaking.

“This might seem like an incredibly personal question, but I would appreciate it if you could answer,” You began, breathing slowly. “Are you single?”

“Excuse me?” The man said, a light laugh escaping his lips, as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Single,” You repeated. “Unmarried. No romantic interests. No-”

“I got that part,” He interrupted, looking at you skeptically, but a confused smile on his face nonetheless. “For your information, yes. I am.”

“Good, that’s- that’s good.” You said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for wha— !” He began, only to be cut short by your lips on his cheek, the light stubble along his jaw tickling your skin. The surprised sound he emitted made you giggle nervously.

“Sorry for that,” You explained, ready to scurry away, when you noticed the man’s expression. He didn’t look angry at all. In fact, he looked… amused.

“ _Well,_ ” He began dramatically, make you crack a smile. “As much as I enjoy beautiful women kissing me on the cheek, can I ask why you felt the need to do that?”

“Actually, I— wait, _what?_ ” You asked, your mouth suddenly going inexplicably dry as your processed what the stranger had said. You wanted to answer, but his compliment threw you off-guard, and you struggled to make sounds exit your mouth. This was foreign territory for you. The man’s smile grew impossibly wider, but he said nothing, arms coming up to cross across his chest as he awaited your reply.

“I— I uhm… it was,” You began, gesturing behind you to Bucky, who seemed perplexed at the ongoing conversation budding between you and the stranger, when you met his eyes.

‘ _What?_ ’ Bucky mouthed to you, from the other side of the outdoor patio the coffee shop had. You ignored him, and turned back to the handsome stranger in front of you.

You still couldn’t make yourself utter out a response, your mind reeling.

“A sudden burst of passion, perhaps?” The stranger spoke, his tone light and teasing. Despite his tone, you could feel the heat making it’s way up your neck. You shook your head, both as an answer, and in hopes that it would aid in making the warmth of color from your neck fade away.

“Uh… it was a dare.” You finally explained. “From my idiot friend over there.” The man nodded in understanding, and smiled towards Bucky, who pressed his lips together in acknowledgment. But, he didn’t focus on Bucky for too long, his soft gaze returning you shortly.

“Well then,” He said, looking at you pointedly. “I’ll have you know, I take most women to dinner before they kiss me.”

“Lucky women,” You muttered playfully, laughing quickly to show you were joking. The stranger raised an eyebrow at you.

_Oh god._

_Did I really just say that? I_ _'ve definitely been hanging out with Bucky too much._

“Well, did you want to try your luck?” He asked, his smile unwavering. You tried not to gape in surprise. This had never happened before.

“I, uh, should get back to my friend.” You declined swiftly, hoping you hadn’t upset the man. He nodded, his smile smaller but still soft.

“I understand. Maybe I’ll see you around…?” He trailed off, awaiting for you to finish. You did, revealing your name with a smile. 

“Carter Grayson.”

“Wonderful meeting you, Carter.” You fired quickly, starting to walk away.

“Likewise. Until next time.”

“What’da just do, ya big dummy?!” Bucky exclaimed, as you returned to your seat across from him. Clearly, he was beyond baffled as to why you had turned down the man’s offer. You gave him a look that told him not to push it, but as you’d come to learn, Bucky wasn’t one for subtlety. He kept pushing.

“Saving him,” You finally snapped. “I’m not gonna torture him, by making him have dinner with me. I wouldn’t know the first thing about romance. It would be too awkward.”

“Well, how would you know anything if you don’t go out and learn?!” He practically screeched.

“I just _know_ ,” You deadpanned, taking a sip of the coffee in front of you.

“You obviously liked him!” Bucky continued, ignoring you. An involuntary wave of heat crept up your neck and cheeks.

“No, I didn’t,” You muttered back indignantly. Bucky didn’t look amused.

“Then, what is this?” He asked, dragging the tip of his index finger up the warmed column of your neck. You shivered and shied away from Bucky’s touch. “The fact that you were smiling like a schoolgirl didn’t help either.”

You frowned.

“I didn’t do that,”

“Well, congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve officially deterred the only man in Brooklyn that wants to dine with you.” Bucky finally said, clearly tired of your denial.

_“Bucky!”_

“What?” He said, smiling sheepishly. “You know i’m just cracking jokes, doll.”

“Well, it would be great if you could make jokes about things that weren’t so soul-crushingly true.” You eventually revealed, internally cringing at how personal the words were, as soon as they left your lips. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You’re acting like you’re the most hideous and undesirable creature to ever exist.” Bucky began, swishing his coffee around in his cup. “It’s not good. Don’t put yourself down in that way- men like confidence, you know.”

“Feel free to slit my throat the day I change myself to please a man.”

“Stop trying to change the subject with your suffragette act.”

“It’s not an act!”

“ _Whatever_ it is,” Bucky corrected. “It’s not going to help when you’re 60 and alone. You’re not a child, Y/N, obviously you’ve at least kissed someone before, so it’s not like you’re—” You took a sheepish sip of your coffee as he spoke, ducking your head so you wouldn't have to meet his gaze. 

“Wait.” Bucky suddenly said, his previous monologue stopping. He audibly groaned. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even had your first kiss.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Come on! I thought I had something to work with here,”

Well, now you _had_ to defend yourself.

“Hey! I’m not shameless like you!”

“Kissing does not make a person shameless.” Bucky answered, his expression unamused, arms crossing across his chest. “I didn’t know I’d have to teach you everything.” 

“Drop it, Buck.” You said, shaking your head. “I’m perfectly content doing… whatever the hell this is,”

“I know. You’ve gotten _too_ comfortable.”

“Oh no, here we go…”

“By the end of the month, at the latest, I’m going to make sure you have a fantastic night out with a man, and if I can teach you to the best of my ability, the night is going to end with his lips on yours.” You chuckled at Bucky’s confidence. There wasn’t a chance he would succeed.

“You can try.”

“Oh I will,” Bucky challenged, his eyes twinkling. “Aren’t you so glad to have me as your friend?”

“ _Steve_ is my friend. You’re a… a means to a goal.”

“Awfully long goal.” Bucky fired, alluding to the weeks you’d spent with him. You shoved his chest playfully, earning glares from an elderly couple next to you at your crass behavior.

 _Fine,_ he was a friend. But, he just barely grazed the category.

You told him so.

Part of the reason why you had grown surprisingly close to Bucky in such a short period of time, was because in some ways, you already knew him through Steve. You knew that he liked to feed the stray dogs that came by his and Steve’s apartment late at night. You knew that he got unnecessarily riled up about arm wrestling. You knew he was nothing short of _shit_ at cards.

But, what had surprised you was that Steve talked about you too. Bucky knew that you refused to read the summary books provided on their inner cover because you felt it often spoiled too much. He knew that you couldn’t drink your coffee without an obscene amount of sugar in it. But, he also knew about your consistent efforts to become a polyglot so you wouldn’t be completely useless to the people who didn’t speak a lick of English, but came to the library anyway to learn.

All before you had first laid your eyes on each other.

“B‘sides, ‘idiotic friend’ isn’t the worst thing I’ve been called.” Bucky piped up, shrugging noncommittally.

“Please, it’s the best thing you’ve been called.”

“Nah,” He refuted casually. “I’ve been called far better. You’d know if you stayed within a one-mile radius of me and Steve’s apartment on the nights I have my… _lady friends_ over.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You did your best not to pull a face.

“I can’t believe Steve puts up with you, because that’s disgusting.”

“It’s the truth.”

“ _That’s_ debatable. Everyone knows you’re all talk.” You taunted, waving away his claims. He raised his eyebrows, hand coming up over his chest to feign offense.

“Oh, relax, Buck. I’m just _cracking jokes_ ,” You parroted, throwing his words back at him.

“You better be,” He warned, half joking. “I was about to say that you could ask Steve, if you didn’t believe me.”

“Steve and I have better things to discuss than your mission to sleep with every woman in Brooklyn.”

“Like, Steve’s mission to sleep with you, perhaps?” He offered with a giggle. You gasped, clearly scandalized by his words. You tried to hit him again, but he dodged the attack, quickly gripping your wrist.

_Stupid reflexes…_

He squeezed the juncture between your arm and hand comfortingly, lazily running circles over the soft flesh with his thumb, lulling your thoughts. Distractedly, you found yourself leaning into the touch that felt much too nice for the small amount of contact he was applying.

 _Much too **nice?**_ Your brain cried, immediately on red alert. _No, no, definitely not—_

Perhaps with a bit more force than necessary, you pried your hand away with a soft gasp. Disgruntled by the thought of missing the warmth of his skin on yours, you stuck your tongue at him in the most childish fashion possible. He beamed, pinching your cheeks in retaliation. 

“One of these days, Bucky, I swear to god, I'm gonna kill you.” He let out a hearty laugh, hands still at the apples your cheeks, stroking the soft flesh there.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” He said, shit-eating grin never leaving his face. Fortunately, the cold metal of the silver ring he liked to wear around cooled your blushing skin. “But, I’ll have you know that I await the day with baited breath, doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out for another chapter later today, since I didn't update yesterday! Thanks for reading! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**_Early 40’s — Brooklyn_ **

“You know, if you dressed in clothes that actually fit you, you’d look— and feel— much better.” Bucky pointed out a few weeks later, mouth full of food showing as he spoke. You glared at both his comment, and his unappealing habit of trying to eat and speak simultaneously.

“Figures,” He said, rolling his eyes at your non-verbal denial. “You hang out with _Steve_.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m _very_ comfortable,” You replied defensively, turning your nose up.

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘Beauty is pain?’” Bucky asked, and this time you rolled your eyes in response.

“You’re supposed to be giving me tips on romance. Not fashion.”

“Okay, _okay,_ ” He acceded, wiping his hands on his trousers, eliciting another glare from you. “So, what are we tackling today? Awkwardness?” You nodded in confirmation, and he seemed to think for a minute before speaking.

“Well, let’s assume you’ve scored the date, and you’re looking for things to talk about. What’s the first thing you say to them?”

“Thank them for coming?”

“It’s not a business meeting, Y/N. You don’t owe them a date.” Bucky chastised, and you nodded in understanding, muttering out an apology. “Jeez, it’s almost like you’re too polite.” You laughed at his comment, making him crack a smile in return.

“Okay, so what else?”

“Compliment them?”

“Bingo!” Bucky cheered. “Well, ‘sorta. It’s the first date, and if you want there to be more in the future, you’ve gotta show your interest. No better way to do that than flirting.”

Bucky went on to explain subtle ways to flirt without seeming like you were too interested, then moving onto “do’s and don'ts” of a first date. This was all new information for you— you didn’t even know it was possible for a person to be ‘too interested.’ You did your best to soak it in, knowing it would most likely fly out of your head if you managed to actually land a date.

The upside was that Bucky was thorough with his explanations. To your delight, he never left a detail out, so you didn’t have to ask questions. He went as far as to grab a pen and a notebook to make sure you took notes.

“Is this really necessary?” You whined. “And, isn’t this Steve’s notebook?” You opened it skeptically.

“He won’t care,” He said, waving away your worries. “And, _yes._ It is necessary.”

“You’re just saying that he won’t care because he isn’t home!” You accused, pointing a finger at him.

“We’ll just rip out the page we used. He won’t even know.” He consoled quickly, before returning to his lecture about body language. He even stopped every now and then, asking you questions to make sure you’d been paying attention. You were impressed with the dedication he had to this, but even you didn’t think you took it as seriously as he did. He occasionally stopped for drinks of water, but other than that, he was unrelenting in his speech.

“James!” You called suddenly, drawing him out of his thoughts. “I think i’ve learned enough for today, don’t you?” It had been nearly an hour and a half. He cocked his head, confused for a moment, before looking out of the window, taking in the slowly darkening sky. Only then did he seem to realize how long he had been going on for.

“Don’t tell me i’m boring you now, doll,” He quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“You weren't for the first hour,” You said, ripping out the page you’d been writing on from the notebook so Steve wouldn’t suspect anything. This caused Bucky to come and snatch it out of your hand, taking a seat next to you as he quickly skimmed your neat, cursive letters.

He elbowed you in the ribs playfully when he noticed that you’d been doodling on the side of the page, instead of taking more thorough notes. You giggled, quickly grabbed the paper back, folding it, and placing it into your handbag for future reference.

“Christ, I really put ya to sleep, didn’t I?” He asked, leaning back into the sofa, a hand clamped over his eyes in embarrassment.

“S’alright.” You replied, sitting back down next to him. “I learned a lot. And, keep Jesus’ name out of your mouth. Only he knows what you do with that wicked thing.”

Bucky smirked at the unsaid innuendo, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes or blush. Or both.

“I’ll have you know I’m a devout Christian. I go to Church every Sunday.”

“Probably to see if there are any women you can charm,” You snorted.

“You know me too well.” He said, leaning back into the sofa. He seemed to think for a minute, eyes casting up to the ceiling as his mind wandered. You watched him, the slow rise and fall of his chest underneath his dress shirt and suspenders distracting you for a moment. You shook your head as he began to speak.

“I have something new to teach you,” He said suddenly, standing up. You groaned. He smiled. “This is gonna be a bit of a different lesson.”

Before you could open your mouth to ask what he meant, he had taken you by the hands, and pulled you to a standing position. You watched as he walked over to the radio, and cranked it on. He pushed the little furniture of the room to the sides, creating a makeshift dance floor.

“M’ gonna teach you to dance!” He exclaimed, pulling you to the center of the room. You couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him. “Dinner can’t be the only thing you do with your date.” You frowned.

“I never told you that I didn’t know how to dance,”

“Alrighty, then… Steve probably did.” Bucky said, shrugging nonchalantly. You felt oddly touched by the fact that he’d taken the effort to remember such a minuscule detail about you, whether or not it was intentional. “Take my hands.”

The radio played something fast paced, and Bucky could see the fear in your eyes at the prospect of dancing. He started to do a little jig, making your laced arms bounce with him. He pulled your arms this way and that, causing you to laugh. Your arms shook, his movements moving perfectly to the heavy bass.

“You gotta swing your hips!” Bucky said, rocking his own hips in demonstration. “Like this.” Bucky laughed, not unkindly, as he watched you try— and fail— to move your hips to the unrelenting beat.

“Bucky!” You whined, slowing your movements. “You don’t get to laugh.”

“Sorry, doll. You’re doin’ great!”

“Like hell I am,” You muttered as he spun you in circles, bubbles of laughter escaping you both as he swayed you to the left, and then to the right, only to pull you back into his arms. He continued to make you do a quick-stepped foxtrot, and even though you felt kind of ridiculous, you had to enjoy how much Bucky clearly loved dancing.

As if on cue, the music changed to something slow, the melodic notes beginning to fill the room. You felt your spine straighten in surprise when he slid a hand down to your waist, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. It took all your effort not to shiver. Bucky had to have felt you tense, because he began to press soothing circles into your hip with his thumb. He must have remembered your reaction from all those weeks ago at the coffee shop, because you found yourself relaxing into his touch once again.

“One hand around my shoulder,” He instructed, and even though it was a just above a whisper, you could feel his breath fanning over your cheek. You complied to his request, one hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck, the other intertwining with his free hand in the air next to you both. His palms were warm upon yours, and the heat of his hands made you let out a heavy breath.

He gave your hip a slight push to the left, causing you to sway, and from there you followed his lead. Luckily managing to avoid stepping on his feet, you moved with him, the music flowing over your figures. No words were exchanged, and you tried not to look directly at Bucky, the closeness of your bodies already a strange new territory for you.

The silence between you two was almost overwhelming.

Without conversation passing between the two of you, the only things for you to focus on were the acoustics of the love song filling the room like golden rivulets of honey, or Bucky’s calloused fingertips at your hip, neither being options you were willing to entertain.

Therefore, the other option taking up space in your brain was Bucky.

_Bucky, Bucky, Bucky._

Bucky with his crooked pretty boy smile, Bucky with his molasses-slow gaze, and Bucky with his intoxicating touch.

Bucky who you liked to call all kinds of names, but had spent over a month with you, entertaining a wish of yours with no selfish gain for himself.

He began to hum along with the song, causing you to look up at him. You really wished you hadn’t because the only thoughts that pop into your head were ones you never wanted to recognize as your own.

You weren’t surprised with why so many women were entranced by him. He had an aura that made every person grateful they were in his presence, but not in a way that made them feel inferior to him. But, rather in a way that made people never want to leave his side.

You really envied that about him.

Looking over the inexplicable aura, Bucky was still a sight to behold. You had a brain, but you also had fully functioning eyes. It’s not like Bucky Barnes was unattractive. Dimpled chin, strong-set jaw, and an utter presence, completed with soft mahogany strands, and deep carmine lips that were nothing short of sinful. But, perhaps his best physical quality, were his eyes. Eyes such a provoking shade of blue, that they pulled you in with every glance. Pulled you into an abstract channel of art— composed of cyans, indigoes, and ceruleans, each color crashing and churning with an electricity that made you want to both look away and never stop staring altogether.

Van Gogh’s _‘Starry Night’_ didn’t even hold a candle to the intensity of Bucky’s eyes.

You shook your head slightly, hoping to derail your train of thought, looking back at the ground when Bucky spoke, causing you to look back up.

“I didn’t know your eyes were that color,” He murmured softly, cocking his head and studying your irises with newfound interest. You shivered.

“That’s because i’m standing right in front of the light,” You whispered back, not wanting the break the aura that seemed to have settled around your intertwined bodies.

“Mmm, that’s not it,” He refuted. “I’ve never seen you like this. Your _eyes._ ”

“My eyes,” You repeated faintly, said eyes falling to his lips as his mouth opened to speak. But, he didn’t speak at all, he just let out a sound of acknowledgement from the back of his throat.

“I…”

“Why are you doing this?” You asked suddenly, tearing the aura like an impatient child popping a bubble. “Not just dancing, but all of… _this_.” You gestured to the air around you, as if that would explain everything. Bucky seemed thrown aback by the question. He let out a disbelieving laugh.

“What?”

“You heard me,” You said, hoping to slowly come to a stop, but Bucky kept swaying you in his arms.

“I— I don’t know,” Bucky balked, clearly thrown off by the question, trying to figure out what you were getting at. “You’re my friend.”

“But, when this all started, I wasn’t.”

“Is this one of those trick questions women ask to find a reason to get mad at you?” Bucky asked, squinting his eyes suspiciously. You rolled your eyes, and shook your head, still awaiting an answer. He finally explained.

“Jeez, I don’t know! We weren’t friends, but then we became friends… and— it’s… what kind of question is that?! This is clearly important to you, and we’re— you’re…” He stopped to sigh. “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me too.” He scrunched his eyebrows together in annoyance, halting your dance, chest heaving from his small outburst. For some reason, you noted the fact that if he even took a slightly deeper breath, his chest would graze yours.

“I— yeah, I got it. Forget I asked.” You said, shaking your head, trying to slip your hand away from his grasp when he stopped you. His grip tightened on your hand and he began to do those rounds of mind-whirling circles again, this time with his thumb on your palm. His voice softened, melted into thick gravel.

“Doll, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” He apologized, moving impossibly closer, his chest actually pressing against yours. You blinked, your mouth going dry for a second.

Your hearts were beating in tandem.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” You finally responded, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it.” Bucky didn’t look convinced. “I’m serious, James.” You said, raising your eyebrows pointedly to show you were serious, a small smile on your lips. “I guess, I just… it was— I don’t know, I really appreciate you doing all of this. I couldn’t quite understand why.”

“You’re pretty oblivious for a smart chick,” Bucky commented, causing you to glare at him. “I don’t just do this kinda’ stuff for anyone, ya know. _Obviously,_ I like you.” You tried not to blush, despite the completely literal meaning behind his words.

“You like me, huh?” You teased, deciding to turn the tables on him. It didn’t work; Bucky didn’t even look fazed, only nodding lazily in response, a dopey smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You know— from the way you practically bully me and all with your words.”

“Oh really? Fine, from this day forward, I will not, ever, say—”

You laughed, not ready to hear whatever ridiculous thought he’d conjured up, bringing the pad of your index finger to his lips to quiet his words. The words stopped in their voyage, and his lips stretched into a toothy grin.

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” You begged, still smiling. He pursed his lips, the softness of his lips pressing against your finger like a soft caress. You couldn’t help but think of how similar the feeling was to a kiss.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” He said, your finger still against his lips, his mouth tickling your skin as he spoke. “I told you a little corruption can be good.”

“Hmm… “ You finally said, not quite ready to admit that he was right. With no other words being exchanged, your mind returned to square one. Chest against chest, a long finger against his pillowy lips, and his irises boring into your own.

Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lips, before returning to your eyes, and even though you were too lost in your own perusal of his lips to notice, you _felt_ the heat of his gaze.

_Christ._

A jingle of keys turning the lock of the front door broke the trance, causing you to jump back like you’d been burnt. Bucky barely had time to switch off the music, before Steve was at the entryway of the living room.

“Hey Buck, you’ll never believe what I just….” His sentence died at the back of his throat as he noticed your presence. “Y/N?”

“Steve!” You cried. It came out a lot raspier than you would’ve liked, so you cleared your throat before speaking. “What are ya doing here?”

“What am I doing here? As in… my apartment?”

“Right,” You laughed nervously. Steve nodded, eyes still slanted like he was trying to figure out what had been going on before his arrival. Bucky cleared his throat.

“Well, Steve, bud, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Where are you going?” You and Steve both asked simultaneously, and when Steve shot his head towards you, you desperately hoped the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“Gonna go pay a visit to Barb,” He said, pressing his lips together in a small smile as he slid out of the door. You frowned.

_Who’s Barb?_

Usually, Bucky told you the names of the women he was… interested in.

_Guess he forgot._

You turned towards Steve in hopes of forgetting why that fact bothered you so much. Only then, did you realize that the furniture was still shoved haphazardly to the side, so you joined Steve as the both of you brought them back to their rightful places. It took some effort, neither of you quite a match for Bucky’s strength, but you managed anyway.

Steve flopped down onto the sofa, chest heaving and cheeks rosy from the exertion. You followed suit, looking straight ahead, trying not to look at Steve. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything.

“So, you and Bucky, huh?”

_Shit._

“Steve,” You said, your tone holding a warning. “There is no Bucky and I. There is only Bucky, and there is only me.”

“Right. Only Bucky and only you dancin' together for the past coupl'a months?” Steve asked, finally turning to face you. “Y/N, I thought we told each other everything.”

“It’s not like I was hiding it from you!” You yelped, trying to scramble for a viable answer. “I just— it never came up, and you never asked…”

“I should have to ask to know that my two closest friends are suddenly besties?”

“No,” You muttered, suddenly feeling guilty for spending less time with Steve. “I figured Bucky already did.”

“Actually, he didn’t,” Steve said, as you squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze. You whipped your head towards him, clearly surprised by his answer. “But, i’m not an idiot. When Bucky started coming home with the same smile I come home with when I’ve spent the day with you, and when you started spending less time with me, I could… put two and two together.” You bit your lip, the guilt in your chest rising.

“Y/N, I’m not talking about this to guilt trip you,” Steve said, placing his hand over yours. “There’s nothing more a person wants than for their two closest friends to get along. But, it’s— I mean… are you sure you should be doing this?”

“Excuse me?”

“I just mean that Bucky is…” Steve seemed to think for a minute. “Intense. Are you sure that you can handle him?” You frowned, suddenly really put off by Steve’s words.

“I’m a big girl, Steve.”

“I know that.” He said, sighing, clearly exasperated at his inability to express the right string of words to you. “Bucky has this— this charisma. His… magnetism? It’s very easy to get swept up in it. I want to make sure that you don’t—”

“Are you saying that I’d like Bucky? As in, romantically?”

“No.” Steve denied before thinking again. “Yes. Well… yes and no.”

“Steve, I’m letting you know here and know, I am a smart, and capable grown woman. I know how life works, and I know exactly how Bucky is around women. I don’t like him that way, and even if I did, I wouldn’t delude myself. I wouldn’t expect anything of it; trust me when I say I know my place. But, this is all irrelevant, because I don’t like him like that. I know it’s easy to lose yourself in Bucky. But… I know how to plant myself pretty goddamn firmly. And, I think you know that too.”

“You may know how to plant yourself, but Bucky’s a bulldozer.”

“ _Steve_ ,” You called. He put his hands up in surrender, nodding, finally deciding to drop the subject.

“Y/N, you know I’m only saying all of this because I have your best interests in mind. I’m just saying, be careful.”

“I will, Steve. I promise.”

Steve seemed satisfied with your answer, settling back into the sofa, and being the ever-polite man that you knew him to be, he asked about your day. You smiled and told him what you could, excluding… whatever had occurred in the midst of your dance with Bucky.

“Actually, I need to get going, too. God knows how many things I have to finish,” You said, standing up. Steve nodded in understanding, giving you a final smile as you made your way to the exit, shutting the door behind you.

Without Steve’s presence, and only the night air to keep you company, you began to think. There wasn’t a chance you’d be able to escape your thoughts now. You leaned back against the brick wall next to Steve’s door, your mind ringing with what Steve had said.

His worries had absolutely no basis whatsoever. You could and would never like Bucky Barnes.

…Right?

_Right._

Before today, you wouldn’t have had even a single doubt about it, but now, after having been with Bucky like that, and the ghost of his heady stare and feather-light graze still sending tingles down your spine, your mind wandered.

_Whatever. There are, like, a billion nerve endings along a working spine. ‘Tingles’ are nothing more than a natural human response._

Just because you no longer wanted to rip his head off didn't mean you want to jump into bed with him either. It can’t be— it’s just… not realistic.

Then, why did it feel like you were desperately grasping at straws?

Beginning to make your way down the stairs, you were stopped by a nearly heavenly scent, that practically spun your world on it’s heels. Some delicious tomato based concoction with notes of garlic and thyme that made your stomach growl involuntarily. Your mouth watered, and without really thinking, you peeked your head into the wide windows of the apartment the smell was emanating from.

An elderly woman, easily stirring what must’ve been some kind of sauce in a pot, her mouth stretched into a wide grin. You couldn’t help the warmth from blooming into your chest, the scene reminding you of your own grandmother who would sooner die than hear that you hadn’t eaten.

You began to walk away, a small smile on your face, when you noticed someone else stepping into the view the window provided. And, as you took in who it was, you audibly gasped.

Bucky.

You let out a disbelieving scoff, watching as he quickly chopped the leaves in his hand into fine bits with precision, before sprinkling them into the pot.

_This was Barb? And Bucky can cook?_

Suddenly, you felt awfully childish, crossing your arms as you watched the scene unfold before your eyes. The woman said something to Bucky who laughed, and shook his head, before grabbing a small spoon to taste the sauce.

You watched him as he ducked his head to taste the combination of flavors. His eyes slipped shut as he savored the taste, his jaw moving slightly. You couldn’t help but notice how young and carefree he looked, an aura of comfort and domesticity around him. He opened his eyes, and added a pinch of salt to the pot, dusting the excess off by rubbing his fingers against each other.

The woman said something else, her head cocking as she did so. It must’ve been a question, but Bucky didn’t answer. You knew because you were all too focused on his mouth. But, as you redirected your gaze, you noticed Bucky was moving his hands, in some sort of strange gesture, before changing the shape they were in, into other hand signals.

_What the hell?_

It took you far too long to realize what Bucky was doing.

He was… communicating with the woman.

Through sign language.

You mind jumped headfirst into remembrance of the fateful day Bucky had first visited you of his own free will at the library.

_“While I go grab my books, you think you could be a doll and grab me one on sign language?” He had asked. That was the first time you had ever heard his voice without a flirty lilt to it._

_“What— you find a pretty girl that you couldn’t charm with your vulgar vocabulary?”_

_Bucky had smiled._

_“Something like that,”_

As your mind re-focused on the scene in front of you, you took a minute to process. Womanizing, cocky, and smug Bucky Barnes did and learned… all that. Not for himself, but rather an elderly neighbor— who was apparently deaf. That he liked to visit. And cook dinner for.

Well, that was one thing Steve hadn’t told you about his best friend.

 _Shit,_ you thought, pinching the bridge of your nose, as you moved away from the window, and came to a sudden realization. _Steve was right._

You liked Bucky Barnes. In an _infuriatingly_ non-friendly way.

You scoffed.

Of all people.

You made a mental note not to ever question Steve ever again, because he clearly always knew what he was talking about, if the slowly deepening warmth in your chest for Bucky Barnes was anything to go by.

You sighed.

This was only going to bring you disappointment, you knew it. But, that small, blooming glimmer of hope in your chest refused to die out. The one that whispered: _‘What if?’_

The question was incredibly dubious. It had no substance. Nothing solid.

But, somehow… for you? It was enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotdogs, a race, and a ferris wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick TW for a panic attack- there is a description of it.

**Early 40′s _— Brooklyn, New York_**

“Bucky, if you eat one more hotdog, I think you’re gonna go into a food induced coma,” You commented, trying your best to suppress a laugh as you watched him pay for yet another hotdog from a roadside stand at Coney Island.

“What better way to leave this weary world?” Bucky asked with a small sigh, as he took an obscenely large bite out of the poor snack. You two began to walk, falling into an easy pace together. “You just don’t know the extent of the love I have for hot dogs.”

“I've had the privilege of watching you scarf down the last four, so yes, I think I do,” You said, ending your sentence with a roll of your eyes, rubbing your palms together in an effort to get warmer.

“Four is _nothing,_ ” Bucky insisted. You smiled, your gaze falling to the floor as your shook your head fondly. Bucky nudged you with his shoulder, causing you to look back up at him.

“There’s that pretty smile,” He says. “After the last couple of weeks, I didn’t think I was gonna see it again. Y’know— what with me leaving and all.”

“Bucky, you can turn off the charm.” You said, trying to keep your voice even, and nonchalant. He smiled, knowing he’d been caught. “For the last time, I am not avoiding you… and, what do you mean you’re _leaving_?” Bucky ignored your question, and narrowed his eyes at you, causing you to look away, drawing your lower lip into your mouth.

“Maybe you’re not ignoring me anymore, but you certainly _were,”_ He shot back.

“I was not!”

“You do know that, by now, I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Bucky asked.

“I was just… busy.” You finished lamely. Bucky gave you a look that said nothing other than _‘That’s the best you’ve got?’_

To be fair, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

After leaving Steve’s apartment that night a few weeks ago, you had somehow convinced yourself that avoiding Bucky would help the situation. You thought that maybe if there was some distance between you two again, maybe the situation could be remedied. You had stopped answering his telephone calls, and stopped going to Steve’s house. You even ran to the back of the library whenever you saw Bucky’s tall figure set his foot through the entrance of the library to search for you. You hadn’t really thought about how it would affect the person you were going all these lengths to avoid.

If you were honest, you didn’t think it would affect him at all.

But, ever since Bucky had introduced you to that delicious corner coffee store, you had taken a liking to the little café. And, this morning you had figured it was worth the risk, and entered the store, only to find Bucky at one of the tables, drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper of the day. You were slightly annoyed at the fact that you took notice of how cute he looked, hair flopping down onto his forehead, and eyes squinted towards the paper in concentration.

The way his face lit up when he spotted your figure in the line for coffee made your chest clench in a way you didn’t know was possible.

“Y/N!” He had called. From there you two had poured yourselves into a relaxed conversation, and as expected, he brought up why you had been avoiding him. You had, of course, scrambled for an excuse and ended up spitting out a swift denial.

“Oh really? If you’re not avoiding me, then you’ll go to Coney Island with me, first thing on Sunday,” He had said, slapping his hand onto the table as a confirmation of his words.

_Damn, he was good._

But, he wasn’t getting you to submit that easily just yet.

“I, actually, have never been to Coney Island, so I would probably be no fun anywa—”

“You _what?!_ ” Bucky had practically yelled, his voice incredulous. A few people in the store gave you some dirty looks in response. After smiling apologetically at them, you looked at Bucky for an explanation for his outburst. “You— an official resident of Brooklyn, New York— have never been to _Coney Island_?”

“No…?”

“Forget Sunday. We’re going tonight.”

“What?! Bucky, no, I can’t just—”

“And, why not?” He asked, eyebrows raised pointedly. “If I remember correctly, you don’t have work on Friday nights.”

“Well, no, I don’t have work, but… I don’t know. I can’t just _go_ on such short notice.”

 _“Yes,”_ He insited. “You can.”

“What about you?!” You asked. “I’m sure you have plans. You can’t just go and cancel them.”

“I can and I will,” He said, turning his nose up adamantly.

“You can’t do that to Steve! He’ll be so disappointed!” You said, trying your best to negotiate with him. He raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I have plans with Steve tonight?” He asked, and you had balked for a moment.

“I…” You said, frowning. “I dunno. Why would you be willing to cancel any other sort of plans— for _me_?”

The look Bucky gave you after that, was one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was strange, one you had never seen directed at you. Atleast, not that you could remember. His eyes were soft yet undeniably melancholy, and to top it all off, there was a small smile on his face. But, somehow, the smile was a little sad too.

 _“Oh, Y/N,”_ He said with a deep sigh.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s— just…” Another sigh. “Nothing. I’ll see ya tonight.”

So, here you were at Coney Island, walking with the chill of the Brooklyn air permeating your thin coat as you did your best to keep up with Bucky’s long strides, trying not to laugh at the story he was telling. He talked animatedly— some story about Steve and an apparently lethal battle he’d had with a pineapple Bucky had brought home— arms waving wildly as he gestured this way and that.

“And, then he said ‘That pineapple is the goddamn devil respawned.’ Jesus, I think I almost choked on my own laughter. Oh, Y/N, you had to _be_ there.”

“Sounds like it,” You murmured, your eyes twinkling. Bucky studied you for a minute.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked.

_“Bucky…”_

“I’m just askin’, doll.” He said, raising his arms in surrender. You hated how the pet name now made a light blush climb up your cheeks. Luckily, it was a little too dark for him to notice. He took out a stick of gum from his pocket, and popped it in his mouth, as he awaited your answer.

“I think I am. Thank you for asking.”

“If you’re gonna be all obscure like that, you’re _not_ welcome,” He said, smiling like an idiot.

Which he was.

“Well then, I take back my gratitude.”

“Aw, doll, ya can’t take just it back!”

“Watch me!” You exclaimed, giving him a slight shove. He staggered backwards a few steps, more from the surprise rather than the force of your push. “Catch me if you can!”

With that, you took off running at full speed, failing to catch the grin that made it’s way to Bucky’s face and the disbelieving shake of his head, before he began to chase after your quickly fleeting figure.

You realized very quickly that you had come up with a terrible idea, because you didn’t know your way around Coney Island nearly as well as Bucky did. You found yourself getting slowed down by a plethora of random stands, walls, and rides. Bucky was hot on your heels, and you were lucky that you avoided getting caught for as long as you did.

Although, in hindsight, he probably let you lull yourself into a false sense of security.

You tried to weave your way through a few tight crowds, but it inevitably slowed you down just as much as it did him, so as soon as you were out of his life of sight, you seeked shelter in the back corner of a particularly large ride. You let your body fall back against the wall, your chest heaving as you did your best to catch your breath. You smiled in relief. Maybe you’d finally gotten rid of him.

“Gotcha!” Came a low, beckoning voice in your ear, causing your heartbeat to start spiking erratically again. You squealed gleefully as two large arms came to wrap around your figure, pulling you into the warmth of their torso, growling playfully as they did so.

And, then, his hand went to the dip of your stomach… and began to tickle.

“James! _Hey_!” You giggled into the crook of Bucky neck, your hands clutching at the softness of his clothing, as your body shook with laughter. He chuckled from above you, his silky lips slipping along the shell of your ear, as he finally relented in his torture.

“ _Sweetheart,_ ” He practically purred into your ear. You shivered, but not because of the crisp air. “I think you know that i’m not one to back out of a challenge. I _like_ winning.”

“You only won because,” You stopped to gasp softly, as one of his cold hands skimmed a sliver of skin on your waist that must’ve gotten exposed as you were running. “Because… I let you win.”

“But, I still won.” He said, smiling like a kid in a candy store. “So, what’s my prize?”

“Only good boys get prizes, and you are… anything but,”

“What? I’m too _naughty_ for a prize?” He asked, his grin changing to wicked one. You shot him a surprised look, clearly scandalized by his words, _again_.

You still wanted to shut him up or at least wipe that dumb smirk off his face. But, now you wanted to do it with a kiss instead of a slap.

_Ridiculous._

You stepped away from the shelter of his embrace, immediately missing the heat of his body. Bucky quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, and cleared his throat.

A silence fell over you two as you walked, the merry music from the different rides playing on a continuous loop. It was strange for a few moments before Bucky’s stoic expression changed into one of delight when he suddenly stopped, and grabbed your wrist to make you stop too.

“You hear that?” Bucky asked, his smile practically splitting his face in half.

“Hear what? The music? Yeah, Buck, I’ve been hearing the music since we—”

“Shh!” Bucky said, causing your sentence to stop short. “That’s the sound of a very _particular_ ride…”

“…The ride being?”

“The ferris wheel!” Bucky said, bounding over to the line for the ride. It was fairly short, considering the park would close down soon, but you didn’t follow. You stood, stuck in your position.

“Well? Come on, Y/N!” He said, waving you over. All you did was gulp, and look up at the intimidatingly large wheel of _death_ in front of you.

“There… isn’t… a chance in _hell,_ I am going to ride that.” You said. Bucky’s eyebrows scrunched together, as he jogged back over to you.

“Whaddaya mean?” He asked, clearly not understanding why you were reluctant to follow him to the line.

“That is the… wheel of death.” You said simply. Bucky’s face flooded in realization, and his hands came to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, lemme tell you. There is absolutely _nothing_ that compares to the feeling of watching over Brooklyn when you get to the top. I promise that it’s safe— I’ve gone on it a million times!” He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, in what you guessed was supposed to be a calming gesture, but ended up doing nothing to slow your accelerating heartbeat down.

“Okay, but what if it… I don’t know! Breaks down _now_?”

“It won’t, I promise.”

“But, if it does?”

“Then, you can yell at me from your grave.” He said. “Look, consider this as… overcoming a fear. Maybe you’ll like it!”

_“Bucky,”_

“Y/N, _please_. For me? Think of it as another one of my dares.”

For some reason, that was enough to convince you. You took a deep breath, before giving a shaky nod, causing Bucky to smile as he placed a hand at the small of your back to guide you to the seats.

“How’s it going, Barnes?” Asked the man that took your tickets, smiling at Bucky. It was clear they were well acquainted.

“Pretty good, Jim. What about you?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.” Jim replied, waving his hands. “Looks like you finally brought a pretty lady with you instead of that skinny lil’ boy.” Bucky laughed good-naturedly. You tried not to read into it, but you couldn’t help your mind from wandering when Bucky didn’t deny Jim’s insinuation of… _this_ being a date. Bucky gestured for you to go sit in one of the seats, as he started up a small conversation with Jim. You followed his instructions, inevitably missing the next thing that Bucky whispered to Jim, as he slid over some extra money.

“Jimmy, ya think you could maybe stop the, uh, seat we’re in for a couple minutes when we’re at the top? Just for a little whi—” Jim held up his hand to stop Bucky, a knowing smile on his face as he nodded and motioned toward you with a jerk of his chin so Bucky would go join you.

A few seconds later, Bucky was fitting himself into the almost scandalously small seat, the sides of both your bodies pressed against each other. The gears of the ride began to grate against each other with a loud, grinding squeal, causing you to grip the handles with white knuckles. The seat started moving up, up, up.

You didn’t even notice you had squeezed your eyes shut, until Bucky reached a hand over your shoulder, and slightly squeezed your arm.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay,” He whispered into your ear. “Look, you’re completely fine.”

He was right.

You let out a shaky breath, and subconsciously pressed yourself further into Bucky, as you took in Brooklyn for the first time from a new perspective. The lights of the city twinkled from below, and you couldn’t believe you were getting to see New York in such a way. Your seat approached the peak of the Ferris Wheel, and you squeezed the handles of the seat a little tighter in anticipation, the blood from your knuckles rushing away from the pressure of your compression.

_It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay._

Maybe if you kept repeating it to yourself, it would actually turn out to be so.

But, it turned out fate really did hate you.

Because, in that exact moment, as your seat approached the absolute top of the large ride, the seat came to a halt with a roaring mechanical groan. The sound was deafening, and somehow your heart started to beat twice as fast.

“ _Bucky?!_ ” You called, your voice lilting with a soft panic, as you realized what this really meant. You were stuck— at the utter top of a terrifyingly large ride at Coney Island, no less. You felt your breaths getting increasingly shallow as the seconds ticked on. Bucky— figuring it was normal jitters— pulled your figure in closer, but all you did was start gasping loudly, trying to get air into your lungs.

“Whoa, whoa, Y/N, it’s okay. Look at me,” He said, soft fingers on your chin, trying to get you to face him. You didn’t realize you had your eyes clenched shut, until he gently tugged on your chin again. “ _Look._ ”

But, you couldn’t focus. Everything around you turned acutely clearer, each of your deep breaths and the cool metal of the seat biting into your back— making the feeling that much worse. You didn’t know what to do, except focus on trying to get the air to flow past your esophagus. Your efforts were futile, it seemed, as your throat only closed up further.

You wanted to cry, _god_ , you wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. _You wouldn’t_. You willfully kept your eyes shut, bouncing your leg up and down, trying to distract from your current situation.

Your lungs refused to expand, and that incessant feeling of being stripped of all control entered your mind and body. Every acre of your earth was slipping out from under you, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to plant yourself in it.

 _Jesus,_ it was like you were back home, 10 years old, and alone in your bathroom again.

The lack of air itself made your temple pound more furiously, the root of your chest squeezing like a fist had been wrapped around it. The tips of your fingers sent one last jolt through your veins, before shutting down completely, ridding your fingers of all feeling.

A small, gentle touch brought you back to your body.

Bucky’s fingers.

Massaging wide, lopsided circles onto your thigh with his dexterous fingers, the warmth of his palm sending a rush of blood through your legs.

You turned towards him, your eyelids jumping open with surprise, a small rush of air escaping your lungs as you looked at Bucky. He was startlingly close, his face buried into your hair, nosing gently at the smooth flesh of your neck.

Only then did you realize exactly how close to him you were— a squeak escaping you as you did so. You were practically in his lap, bodies flush against one another, one of his hands clutching your bare thigh, and another threaded through your hair. One of your hands was fisted in his shirt, the other still grasping the handle of the seat for dear life.

It took you much longer to notice that he had been talking— or, _whispering_ , really.

“It’s not the place bothering you, doll, it’s the thought. But, you can get through this. Come on.”

“Tell me what you need, Y/N.”

And, finally, as he noticed your breathing slow back to it’s normal rate:

“It’s over, doll, _you’re safe_ , you’re alright.” He murmured into your hair. “You did absolutely amazing, y’know that?”

His voice was the softest you’d ever heard it be. You gulped, wondering how the hell he knew what to say, and what to do. The warmth in your chest for Bucky Barnes— the one that was starting to appear more and more these days— deepened, realizing that he had helped you with one of your… _episodes_.

No one— not even _Steve_ — had ever been able to help.

But, before you could get too lost in your own thoughts, Bucky’s velvety lips were at the base of your throat, pressing gently against the clammy skin. The heat from his lips made you whine as it spread from your neck all the way down to your toes. 

_Holy shit._

_Did Bucky Barnes just kiss your neck?_

“Bucky,” You practically mewled, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, even though you knew it was supposed to be a comforting gesture— _just_ a comforting gesture. You inwardly berated yourself before forcing yourself to open your eyes again, pawing at this chest so he’d look at you. His gunmetal eyes finally returned to yours.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice still barely audible, as if he’d scare you away if he spoke any louder. You gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, watching his face break into a small smile. Your eyes fell to his lips, entranced, as he drew in his lower lip between his teeth, before releasing it with a soft _‘pop,’_ his tongue coming out to lave at the small hurt. One of his hands came to rest at your face, thumb tracing over the edge of your cupid's bow reverently. Your puckered your lips, giving his finger a little peck the same way he had given yours all those weeks ago. He smiled, eyes softening. 

At the distance he was from you, you wouldn’t even have to move your body to kiss him.

_Just a small push of your head and…_

The thunderous creaking of the Ferris Wheel began again as your seat started to move back down, breaking you from your trance. You released a long, relieved sigh.

So, as it turned out… you _wouldn’t_ be dying at the top of a Ferris Wheel. You managed to bark out a dry laugh, the amusement not quite reaching your eyes.

Realizing your position again, you quickly ripped yourself away from Bucky’s lap in a flurry, smoothing down your skirt as you did so. But, Bucky’s arm didn’t leave your shoulder, your own figure still huddled in between his arm and torso. Your seat was still a long way from the ground, so you settled into your new comfy position, your breaths finally settling into a easy routine again.

_In, out. In, out._

Your eyes flickered for a few moments, before you shut them, a small hum of contentment escaping you as your head fit into the juncture where Bucky’s neck met his shoulder. You felt him turn his head to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head, but missed the next thing he murmured as he turned his head away.

A small, barely discernable mumble.

“M’ really gonna miss ya, doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! 
> 
> So, a quick disclaimer: my intentions were not to romanticize panic attacks in any manner or spread some sort of idea that a person will help during an attack- that is not always the case. The reasons why I wanted to add this is for developments and plot reasons (which you will come into play later in the story), and also because this is a reader insert. I wanted to make it more relatable seeing as this applies to me as well, and it may apply to others. 
> 
> But, anyway, I am open to discussion about this. Did you hate it? Love it? Let me know! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**_Early 40′s — Brooklyn, New York_ **

Your lower lip trembled, and you forced yourself to harden.

“So, you’re just going to leave?” You asked, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall over. “Just drop everything here, and—and—”

“Y/N, I—” Bucky stopped to sigh. “I have to serve my country. Every able bodied man!”

“But, they already have an army!” You pleaded. Bucky gave you a look.

This argument had been taking place at Bucky’s apartment for the last 2 hours, ever since Steve let it slip that Bucky was thinking about fighting in the second world war. Seeing Bucky’s death glare, and realizing his friend had yet to tell you of his plans, Steve had scurried away, and left you two to talk.

Or, argue, rather.

“I just don’t understand why they need you!” You exclaimed. Bucky’s expression changed to that of hurt. You widened your eyes, eyebrows shooting up. “Not— not that they wouldn’t be lucky to have you… it’s just,”

“ _Y/N,_ ” He called firmly, two fingers coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. Your shoulders slumped. “I don’t see you being like this with _Steve_ ,”

_Was it just you or was that a hint of…_

_No._

_It couldn’t be._

“I love that boy to death, but you and I both know _damn_ well Steve is going to be rejected for recruitment.” You hissed, lowering your voice as if Steve was outside, listening in on the conversation. “The asthma alone would be a deal breaker.”

“Which is exactly why they need me,”

“You can’t just uproot your life here!” You practically yelled. “What if you— you… I don’t know! Get hurt?! Or, worse, you—” You scrambled to find the right string of words. Bucky had the audacity to smile.

“Are my ears deceiving me, or is Y/N Y/L/N worried about my safety and well-being?”

“You may not care about what happens, but what do you think getting hurt in battle is gonna do to the people that care about you?! Huh?”

“Believe it or not, my folks are actually _supportive_ of my decision,” Bucky said with a wave of his hands, eyes narrowing at your figure. You rolled your eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about your parents,” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff. Bucky cocked his head.

“I think Steve will be just fine with you around. He won’t miss me.”

You admired Bucky Barnes. You really did. But, you didn’t know it was possible for a person to be this obtuse.

“ _Christ,_ you’re dense.” You said with a shake of your head. “You know what, Barnes? Forget it. Do whatever the hell you want.” You spun on your heel, starting to make your way away from him.

You were being petty, you knew it. You commended the dedication Bucky had to this country; clearly this was important to him. But, you weren’t trying to tear him away from something he loved. You just didn’t want him to be his reckless self, and get himself killed.

Because James Barnes was good at a lot of things.

Following rules and orders?

Not one of them.

But, before you could escape Bucky, a warm hand came and wrapped around your wrist, tugging slightly, causing you to flail as you slammed into Bucky’s body in surprise. He steadied you with his hands, thumbs placed firmly onto your ribcage.

“Don’t be like that,” He pleaded, eyes never leaving yours. The strength of his gaze was so fierce, you had to advert your line of sight. “There’s still a month or two until I’m going to enlist.”

“Oh joy,” You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “30 entire days!”

“You know…” He tutted, his voice washing over your figure in a way that felt too nice for the words he was uttering. He lowered his grip to your waist, and brought you in closer. “You could stop hiding behind those lil’ comments of yours, and tell me that you care. About _me_.” You wanted to sniff indignantly, but his tone was heavy and serious.

“Will it make you stay?” You asked, peering up at him through your lashes. He gave you a look.

“ _Fine,_ James. I care about you.” You stopped to scoff. “I don’t know how— after everything that has happened— you expect me not to. I care about you a whole goddamn lot. And— I just…” You couldn’t stop your eyes from becoming glossy as you spoke. Bucky’s expression softened.

“You know very well that, uh, I don’t have a lot of friends. And you’re one I really value. So, is it ridiculously, incredibly selfish of me to want you here? Yeah, it is. But, if it means that you’re alive, and healthy… well, I can live with that.” You couldn’t stop a salty tear from leaving your eyes.

“I’m not saying this so you can pity me, but… everyone always leaves. I don’t want you to do the same.” You said, a violent sob racking through you as you thought back to your childhood. Bucky reached his arms out further to you.

“Y/N,” He cooed, bringing your huddled figure into your chest, letting your tears ruin his shirt as you buried your head into his chest. He smelled like a musky cologne, mint, and something distinctly _Bucky._

And, like that you two stayed.

* * *

You hadn’t seen Bucky in over two weeks.

Needless to say, his little disappearing act after the conversation you two had shared, made you more than a little apprehensive. Was he avoiding you?

_He couldn’t be._

_…Right?_

You held your breath as you wiggled your way into your favorite skirt and blouse. You sighed and took a deep breath into the mirror. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was stylish enough for a date.

A couple nights ago, you had ran into Carter Grayson— the man you had met at the coffee shop with Bucky— at your local park where you had gone to… surprise, surprise: _read_. You were slowly beginning to realize what a… boring life you lead, now that you had lived a more colorful one with Bucky.

Nevertheless, you had your nose burrowed into the book, devouring each word, when Carter had managed to pick out your huddled figure on the bench, and had approached you with a small smile.

“ _He is more myself than I am,_ ” Carter had said, plopping down onto the space next to you. “ _Whatever our two souls are made of, his and mine are the same._ ”

You smiled at his verbatim recitation of one of your favorite quotes from the book. You had set down your copy of _Wuthering Heights_ , and greeted him with a polite hello.

Before you’d known it, you two had launched into an hour long conversation, not really realizing how much time had passed until you the sky had started to transform into a soft lavender from the bright blue hue of the day.

“I can’t believe you’ve read _all_ of them,” Carter had said, shaking his head in glee. “A woman after my own heart.” You ducked your head and blushed in response, fingers skimming the pages of your book to keep yourself busy.

“I’m sorry,” He had apologized quickly, when he noticed your response. “I understand you are not—”

“No, Carter, it’s okay.” You had found yourself saying. Before you could stop yourself, you kept talking. “I think I might’ve spoken too soon. If you haven’t changed your mind, I would very much enjoy dinner with you.”

You shook of the guilty feeling at the back of your mind that whispered: _‘What about Bucky?’_

You were allowed to pursue a relationship with someone who at least _remotely_ reciprocated your feelings.

Because, even if Bucky had comforted you during your darkest hours, and had been a damn good friend, that’s _all_ he had been. And, come the end of the month, he would still be signing himself away to fight. 

So, if your life was boring without him, you would need to find a way to spice it up without his presence. And you needed to do it fast.

Carter had grinned widely, and set up a date at a restaurant you’d never been to, but only heard of. You’d agreed to meet him there, and he had left you with a soft press of his lips to the top of your hand.

So, here you were, standing in front of your mirror, and wondering if you should try on another outfit. You fiddled with your hair, trying to make it look good, and applied a bit of lipstick to your lips and the apples of your cheeks.

Finally, you decided to keep the getup you were wearing, because if you tried on even one more skirt, you knew you’d never leave. You grabbed your necessities, and locked your door with a resounding ‘click,’ before heading out and facing the vast New York streets.

You were met by Carter in front of the restaurant, who greeted you with a bright smile and a sweet compliment, before ushering you into the building.

It was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

**1 HOUR EARLIER**

“You know, Bucky, you’ve come up with a lot of stupid plans in the time I’ve been friends with you. But, this? This just might top them all.” Steve said with a scoff, watching his best friend struggle to put on his tie properly, fussing with the fabric more than necessary. Bucky mussed his hair with his fingers a little before returning to the task at hand.

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Bucky said, groaning in frustration as the tie refuses to cooperate.

“You could— oh, I dunno— _not_ scar her for the rest of her life?” Steve asked, his eyebrows moving with his facial expressions. Bucky gave Steve a look.

“Look, Buck, if you care all this much, you could just… stay?” Steve asked, his voice quiet. Bucky was quiet, and for a moment, it looked like he was contemplating the thought. But, then, he shook his head.

“I can’t— it’s… I shouldn’t.”

“Okay, then she’ll understand how important this is to you.”

“It’s easier my way. _Better._ ”

“You mean easier for you,” Steve corrected.

“Easier for us _all._ ”

“Not for me,” Steve said, wringing his hands together in his lap. “I can’t lie to her.”

“You’re not going to,” Bucky insisted, coming to take a seat on the bed next to his friend. “All you’re gonna have to do is be there for her. I know now, that the last thing she needed me to do was swoop into her life and leave like i’d never been there.”

“Then why are you doing exactly that? You knew full well this would happen, that you were going to enlist,” Steve said, jabbing a finger into Bucky’s chest. “I warned you not to do it. Why wouldn’t you listen? Why would you let her let you in?!”

“I don’t know, Steve!” Bucky cried, shooting up to his feet like he’d been electrocuted. “I didn’t _mean_ to… to care about her, Jesus!”

“But, you did it anyway,”

“I did. And now, I’m… dealing with it.” Bucky said with a heavy sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “Look, I have to get going. I know some people that are going to get recruited— real big, tough guys. They’ll get enlisted within a second of inspection. I should… make some friends, while I’m here. Make my life easier for when I’m away. Might even get a good word put in for me.”

“Rob, Ryder, and Jonas?”

Bucky nodded. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come with?” He asked. Steve shook his head, laughing internally at the mere thought of _approaching_ ‘Brooklyn’s Devils,’ as they had coined themselves.  

“Alrighty, then. I’ll see you in a couple hours, or maybe… maybe in the morning.” Bucky said, finally getting his tie to cooperate.

“But, you haven’t been out until the morning in months.” Steve piped up, surprised by Bucky’s words. “Not since you…” He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. Bucky’s eyes shot to the ground, and he gulped, before shaking his head, as if willing the thought away.

_Not since you met her._

“Lighten up, Stevie. The plan’ll work just fine. This will be only for a month or two. And, that’s only if I run into ‘er.”

Steve nodded curtly. He knew _why_ Bucky was doing this, but he still couldn’t let him agree with him. Bucky nodded back, and made his way to the door. But, before he left, Bucky turned back a final time. He couldn’t leave for dinner without asking.

“You’ll… make sure she’s alright? Take care of her?”

“I always do.”

* * *

You looked devastatingly beautiful, and it made something shatter and harden inside Bucky altogether.

Light giggles escaped you, and although he couldn’t hear them, he knew they were genuine from the way your eyes crinkled, and the way your shoulders shook with joy from across the restaurant.

He was subtle in his perusal of your actions, only giving sideways glances from his table— situated the furthest from yours. You had yet to notice him, and although the rational part of him wanted to keep it that way, a small, selfish part wished that you’d glance his way and smile.

Or, at least acknowledge his presence.

Something.

_Anything._

Even though he knew what he would have to do if you did.

But, you were all too preoccupied with your date— Grey, something or other— the man you two had met when he had dared you to go kiss his cheek all that time ago. Bucky frowned to himself, wondering why that bothered him so much. And, why you hadn’t told him that you had a date. With a man you had rejected, (in the beginning, at least) no less.

 _Oh right,_ He thought. _I haven’t spoken to her in a while._

“Barnes!” One of the men he was having dinner with hollered. Ryder, was his name. Bucky ducked his head, hoping you hadn’t heard. “What’s got you lookin’ all blue? Girl trouble?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a coarse laugh, the sound coming out humorless. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Well, go on, then,” Urged one of the other men. “Maybe we’ll be of help.” A wicked grin came upon his face.

“Like hell you will, Rob.” Said Jonas, laughter emanating from his mouth that sounded like heavy machinery parts whirring against each other. “ _Dogs_ would treat women better than you.”

“Barnes, here, should tell us anyway,” He argued, his voice adamant and directed towards the other two men. “Even if we can’t help, he’s our _buddy_ now. What’s his business is ours.” The way he clapped a hand onto Bucky’s back let him know that Rob wasn’t making a request: but, rather, a command.

“It’s nothing much,” Bucky says with a wave of his hand, hoping to come off as nonchalant. “Just a little… _hard_ when you want to fight for them… make ‘em _proud_ , so you can return to them after the war. But, they just don’t want ya to go at all.”

“I hear ya!” Ryder said, smacking a hand down onto the table as a confirmation of his words. The food atop it, and the table itself shook with the sheer force of his hand. “Women are fuckin’ stupid. Gettin’ all whiney and whatnot over ya goin’ off to war, as if you ain’t going to save their dainty asses.”

 _That’s not at all what I was trying to…_ Bucky wanted to say, but the voice of his mind melted into the background when the others grumbled in agreement. Bucky took a sip of his drink.

_Nevermind, then._

“By Christ, is that Y/N Y/L/N?!” Ryder cried out suddenly, his eyes trained to the spot where Bucky knew you were situated.

Bucky’s blood ran cold.

“Shit, is she on a date?” Ryder hissed to no one in particular, maniacal laughter coming out alongside his words. “There's a lost cause if I've ever seen one!”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked Ryder, his voice small and lifting up curiously at the end. He wasn’t quite ready to reveal whether or not he knew you to Ryder.

“That’s her!” Rob answered, pointing shamelessly towards your table. You and your date had yet to notice, Bucky realized. “Me n’ Ryder went to highschool with her. Lemme tell ya— nothin’ but a damn prude. Always so goddamn childish. Even offered to _help her out_ — but she turned me down like she could get some on her own.” He laughed. “Wonder who paid the poor bastard to wine and dine her.”

Bucky didn’t realize his fists were clenched underneath the table, until he went to take a drink.

“You’re talkin’ like any other girl would want ya, Rob!” Ryder howled, laughing into his beer. Rob shoved Ryder in retaliation, and Jonas laughed from the other side of the table.

“Aw, fuck off, Ryder,” Rob said. Bucky smiled. That was one thing he could agree with.

Bucky panicked slightly when he noticed one of the waiters approach your table. Only then did he notice that the two of you had finished your food. Which meant you would be leaving soon.

Suddenly, Bucky really wished that he wasn’t seated near the door.

He had arrived after you and your date, so you hadn’t noticed him upon entering, but once you approached the exit, there wouldn’t be a chance that you would miss his presence. Bucky began to try and think of a way he could escape the situation, but then Jonas asked him a question, and he had no choice but to stay and answer.

And then, before he knew it, you and your date were on your feet, beginning to make your way towards the door. Rob lightly shoved Bucky’s shoulder, and indicated towards your approaching figure with a jut of his chin as if Bucky wasn’t already hyper-aware of every muscle in your body.

“Hey, isn’t that your friend?” Your date asked. You scrunched your eyebrows in and turned towards the direction Carter was facing. Your breath caught as you noticed that he was right.

_Bucky._

In front of you, and staring at your figure with an expression that made your blood run cold. An expression that resembled the Bucky that you had first met at the library. The Bucky that you— under _no_ circumstance— would have ever let be your friend. A calculating smirk on his face, and an arm draped over his lap casually, no warmth behind his stature.

You should’ve just smiled acknowledgingly and left. You wondered later why you didn’t.

“Hi, Bucky,” You said, with a small smile.

“Y/N,” He said, his voice low and daunting. You gulped, and one of his friends whipped his head towards Bucky. Your eyes widened. It was _Rob._

And, then, you realized Bucky was having dinner with Rob and Ryder. _The two people from High School that…_

“You two know each other?” Rob asked, a smile on his face that made you more apprehensive than you already were.

“Yes,” You piped up, beating Bucky to an answer. “We’re friends.”

He laughed— a sharp-edged sound with no mirth behind it. It scratched against your skin, and left a burn.

“Aw, honey, I didn’t know I meant all that to ya,” He said, the condescending turn of his head matching the sarcastic tone in his voice. He turned to Rob. “She’s Steve’s squeeze,”

You almost choked on the air as Ryder snickered. Practically everyone in Brooklyn knew Bucky and Steve were friends. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to them to learn new things _about_ Steve _from_ Bucky.

“Excuse me? I am _not_ —”

“You know, Steve always told me you were real shy. But, as I’ve come to learn, you get real mouthy these days.” He said, a slight mask of annoyance on his face.

“Why are you acting like this?” You asked, your voice strained. Carter’s eyes flickered back and forth between you and Bucky. “I thought we were—”

“ _Friends?_ ” He interrupted, yet again. “Oh, sweetheart. If only you knew.” The affectionate nicknames were anything but; they cut into your flesh and made you wince with pain.

You vaguely wondered if he would call you _‘doll.’_

“Knew what?” You demanded, taking a step closer. Carter looked like he wanted to say something, and went to reach for your hand, but you shook off his touch.

“I was never your _friend,_ ” He bit. “I was hardly ever _anything_ to you.”

You gulped, and blinked back tears.

You swore you did your best to breathe, but the air that entered your respiratory system was weak and unforgiving. That all-too-familiar feeling of the earth being swept away from under your Mary Jane’s returned. You did your best not to gasp for salvation.

You should have left then. Asked no questions.

“Wha—” You gulped, eyes flickering back and forth between Bucky and the wooden floors, as you shifted from one foot to another. Your brain tried desperately to make sense of what he was saying. You certainly hadn't _imagined_ all these months with him. “What do you mean?”

He delivered the final, pulverizing blow with a raised brow above his emotionless eyes. The entrancing irises that used to make you see lively universes of cobalt and azure, now just made you shiver fearfully. The iciness in his eyes resembled the freezing manner of an unrelenting Brooklyn snowstorm a _little_ too closely.

“I mean, you’re Steve’s friend,” He said, leaning forward towards your figure. You took a step back. “And, Steve is _my_ friend. He wanted me to play nice until I left, and well, who am I to deny the wishes of my loved ones?” His tone of voice made it clear you were excluded from that narrative.

“B’sides, I’ve only got a month left before I go. Don’t really see the point of pretending anymore. Sweetheart, _you were never anything more than a means to a goal._ You never meant _anything_ to me. I don’t know what you’ve managed to delude yourself with, but to me? You’re _nothing_.”

You bottom lip quivered.

You breifly wondered if he heard heard the sheer _hurt_ from your ribs make it’s way to the center of your chest, creating a fissure of pain that ruptured your heart to messy rubble with a resounding _‘crack.’_

But, you wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t give him or his friends the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Not now. Not like this.

One of the men at the table whistled lowly, one you couldn’t recognize. Even before the tears had blurred your vision.

“ _Damn, Barnes._ ” You heard Jonas whisper under his breath, his tone somewhere between impressed and stupefied. “You’re a heartless son-uva bitch.”

You didn’t know where to look. What to say. But, you gathered what little dignity you had left and straightened your shoulders. You spared Bucky Barnes one final glance.

“Awfully long goal.” You muttered, your voice cracking as you spoke. You cleared your throat.

With that, you took Carter’s hand and walked out of the restaurant, not once looking back.

And, then, once you were out of their vicinity, with Carter’s wrapped his arms around your body, you finally did it.

You let the tears flow freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, the tears are beginning. :) 
> 
> LOL. Let me know what you thought! Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some general harassment. Anything else might spoil. Let me know if there are any other TWs I should add!

It was strange.

Pretending like you two meant nothing to each other.

Pretending like you hadn’t touched a part of him that, up until then, only Steve had touched. Pretending like Bucky hadn’t lied wide awake in his lumpy mattress at 3 a.m, thinking about the way you smiled with your entire face: sparkling eyes, squished cheeks, and lips stretched wide. Pretending like he didn’t spend hours thinking about the way the word ‘James,’ rolled off your tongue, in varying tones of disbelief, admiration, and defeat.

Pretending like you two hadn’t strolled through Brooklyn’s concrete jungles regularly until midnight, talking about everything from your past to your future— back when you’d assumed that he would still be in it. Pretending like he hadn’t brightened your life in the short six months you’d known him. Pretending like after his startlingly cruel words that night, you hadn’t sobbed yourself to sleep, clutching the sheets with white knuckles, staining the pillowcase with your tears.

Well… atleast _you_ were pretending.

Because, after _that_ night, it became increasingly clear that he had either never cared about you, or somewhere along the way, decided that you weren’t worth it.

You still didn’t know which was worse.

So, if you saw him in public, either at the coffee shop or the park, and with the increasingly frequent company of Brooklyn’s devils? You looked away. You walked in the other direction.

But, sometimes your efforts were futile. Sometimes, they would turn their head at the wrong time, and would notice your presence. And, the way they’d smile— like you were a science experiment, and they couldn’t wait to test their hypothesis— never failed to make your toes go numb. Sometimes, they’d whisper something quietly to Bucky with their eyes still trained on your figure, with a smirk that made it clear they were talking about you. Other times, they were loud.

“Hey, look, it’s your _best friend,_ ” They’d snicker to Bucky, who would roll his eyes and shove them away. And on occasion, they’d actually approach you and bombard you with memories from high school you never wanted to remember.

All that you could handle.

What you couldn’t handle, was when Bucky would say something so ridiculously _hurtful_ that you would have to take deep breaths to compose yourself and make the tears stinging the backs of your eyeballs subside. Always some ridiculous comment, that you had no right to get upset over, but pushed the wrong buttons nevertheless. Or, the _right_ buttons, in Bucky’s case, who knew exactly how much his poisonous words would affect you.

Even after weeks, you had trouble grasping the fact that Bucky would use your greatest insecurities against you. The comments even seemed to get harsher over time.

_And, for what?_

As the month passed, you could feel the hate for Bucky Barnes starting to make it’s way into your heart, and a tiny part of you wanted to stop it in it’s path. Make it melt away in hopes that maybe, _just maybe,_ Bucky would return. The Bucky you had come to know.

But, another part of you wanted the hate to fill your heart. Maybe then, it would stop hurting so damn much. Maybe, you’d be able to stop caring.

Then, one day, he’d shown up to the library, with the sole intent of harassing you. Of course, he’d appeared with the company of his three friends. They hid behind shelves, and occupied themselves with books that you knew for a fact weren’t being read. They all stood around for… hours, it seemed, until the rest of the public began to dwindle from the building, as the sun began to sink outside the city. And, then, they closed in.

 _“‘The Psychopathology of Everyday Life’ by Sigmund Freud,”_ Rob said, emerging from the shelves. “Seems interesting. Have you read it, Y/N?” You knew he wasn’t _really_ asking, but you gulped down your fear, and nodded your head.

“I have,” You replied, holding your head higher than usual, hoping that your mask of tranquility wouldn’t be too transparent. “Would you like me to check it out for you, Rob? It’s a good read.”

“Is that right?” Ryder asked, grinning as he leaned against one of the tables. “Well, I s’pose you would know. You’re all _educated_ and shit, aren’t ya?”

You had no idea what to say to that, whatsoever. Bucky finally decided to speak.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You whipped your head towards him.

“What happened to your silver tongue, hmm? You could never keep quiet before, but now you’ve done sewed your mouth shut!” Again, you were at a loss of words. Bucky chuckled.

“Maybe you’ve finally learned,” He said, cocking his head as he studied you. “I knew something had to be different for your little boy-toy to pity you enough to go on a date with you.”

His words were quick, and unrelenting. They hit like short, quick whips to the tender flesh that encompassed your body. Tears threatened to spill out of the corners of your eyes.

“What?” Bucky had asked, a grin on his face that shook you to your core. “You gonna start crying? Give us all a lil’ show, why don’tcha sweetheart? Your little crocodile tears and those _episodes_ are always fun to watch.”

Rob, Jonas, and Ryder absolutely _howled_ with laughter.

You mind reeled, and seethed at the same time. The tears in your eyes were hot, and you were livid. You _hated_ him for saying such a thing, and you hated that you couldn’t control your tears. How _dare_ he bring up the one thing that— that…

And, that’s when you knew you despised Bucky Barnes.  

Luckily, your manager was in for the day. He had been watching his employees, including you, work. He was a large man, set at what had to be 200 pounds. He lumbered out of his office, and growled at the four of them to never step foot inside the library again. They scoffed, and rolled their eyes, mumbling phrases not unlike _“Whatever,”_ and _“Don’t wanna be here anyway,”_ as they left.

You thanked your manager quietly, furiously rubbing at your glossy eyes. He grunted in response.

“They’re a nuisance to this library, and a nuisance to you. You’re a good kid, Y/N. I’m not gonna stand for it.” You were a slight bit surprised; that was the most he’d ever said to you. But, you appreciated his sudden affinity for words nonetheless.

So, you buried yourself. In your job, in Carter, in your studies.

Even if Bucky wasn’t a positive constant in your life anymore, his words from all those weeks ago rang true. You weren’t content with the thought of sitting in the library for the rest of your life. Although, you loved your job, it was but a means of income. You wanted more.

You needed more.

Something… _fulfilling._ So, you’d began to study everything from the Germ Theory to the works of Florence Nightingale; anything the library had to offer on medical subjects. The chances of you becoming much more than a nurse were slim, but if it meant you got to help people… it would be worth it.

You even enrolled in a few classes about Medicine that the school down the street from your apartment offered. It was refreshing. Having a purpose; something to chase.

_Something to chase that would yield results._

It helped that you genuinely enjoyed learning. The human body had always been nothing short of an enigma for you, and as you spent more time familiarizing yourself with it, you came to realize the remarkability each human possessed in the home of their own body.

Steve became a constant in your life again, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. It’s not like you had put him on the back burner because of Bucky, and simply brought him back because Bucky was out of your life. When you’d expressed this to him, Steve had shook his head, and assured you that he knew it wasn’t the case.

You had asked him, at first. About Bucky. Asked Steve _why._

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Steve had replied, his eyes directed towards the floor, instead of your face. “I honestly don’t… ha— have a clue.” You could tell the subject made him uncomfortable; after all, Bucky was still his best friend. So, you dropped it.

You couldn’t blame Steve. He had warned you about Bucky with a loud, and clear voice.

 _Message received,_ You had thought, laughing bitterly to yourself.

But, you couldn’t complain. The month was almost up. Only a few more nights of torture, at the most.

Tonight was one of the few nights, you could go out in peace. Steve had told you that Bucky had set up yet another double date for the two of them, and although Steve didn’t know where they were going, you would bet your bottom dollar they’d be going to the Stark Expo opening.

Bucky was always a fan of mechanics.

This meant that you were free to go to practically any place in the city, and the fact that most of the public would be at the Expo as well didn’t hurt either. And, even though you had been on multiple dates with Carter in the last few weeks, you found yourself anticipating a worriless night out for the first time in a _really_ long time.

You met Carter inside the pub, with a nothing stronger than a glass of water in your hand. He greeted you with a charming smile and a hug, and you found yourself wondering what would’ve happened if you had said yes to his proposition when you’d _first_ met him.

“Hey,” He breathed out, his cheeks pale from the cool air. “You ready?” You nodded, following him to the adjoining restaurant. The dinner you two had was a sweet, and welcome night of entertainment. Carter was the perfect gentleman, as always. Smiled at your words, and held your hand. He was the epitome of politeness.

Which was why you couldn’t understand why you were so unsatisfied. You found yourself wishing for a few teasing remarks, or corny jokes to make you laugh.

Which wasn’t to say that it wasn’t nice, because it was. But, that’s _all_ it was. Perhaps that’s what you needed— someone grounded, calm, and kind to be by your side.

“Hey, Carter?” You asked, as the two of you finished your food. “Do you, uhm, wanna go dancing?” Carter looked surprised, but gave a small smile, and nodded. He held out his hand, and let you tighten your grip on his hand as you two walked.

A lively tune played as the two of you entered the pub side by side. Bodies shimmed on the dance floor, and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. Dim lights illuminated the room, and you had to clutch Carter’s hand to make sure you didn’t lose him. He sat you at the bar, and rallied a bartender to whip up a couple drinks.

You would’ve protested, but you figured you needed some liquid courage to dance in public anyway. The bartender supplied two tall glasses of an amber liquid with crushed ice and a twisted sprig of lemon on top. You shouted out a thank you, and brought the drink to your lips.

By the time you had finished your drink, Carter was barely halfway through his. He laughed as you rose to your feet enthusiastically, and clasped his hands, pulling him up from his sitting position. He left some money under the glasses, and let you lead the way to the dance floor.

As much as you hated Bucky, you were nothing short of grateful for his dancing lessons. Carter swayed and glided with your figure effortlessly, grinning from ear to ear as you surprised him with your moves.

“I had no idea you could dance,” He half-yelled over the music. You smirked.

“I’m full of surprises, Carter,” You said, tugging on the lapels of his suit to pull him closer. “You just don’t know,” He rolled his eyes affectionately, letting your movements guide him. Not one complaint slipped past his lips, as song after song, _after song_ , passed. Carter was content with watching you laugh and roll like you had not a care in the world.

It had been way too long since you felt like this.

You hated Bucky for depriving you of that.

But, thoughts of Bucky passed as soon as they came. Because, you were in Carter’s arms, who was smiling like he had no idea how you had ended up next to him, but had no intentions of letting you go. It broke your heart a little.

_Carter was such a **good** fucking guy._

And, for the past month, you’d been pitying yourself and groaning about Bucky, when he’d been nothing but patient with you. You’d barely given him any attention at all, and the times you two had been on a date, you’d been too preoccupied with your troubles. You frowned. Like clockwork, Carter’s smile disappeared.

“Hey,” He asked, one hand rising from your waist to rest at your chin. “What’s wrong?” You allowed a small smile. You leaned in as close as you could without brushing your lips across his.

“Not a damn thing,” You whispered lowly. Carter cocked his head in confusion, successfully moving his nose out of the way. And so, you went in for the kill. You pressed your lips to his.

His lips were chapped, and for the first couple of moments, they were unresponsive on yours. You gave him some time to process, and in a few seconds, he was kissing you back. You squealed to yourself.

_Your first kiss!_

You pulled away when you could no longer breathe, giggling at Carter’s flushed cheeks. You smoothed out invisible wrinkles in his suit, feeling his racing heartbeat as your hand skimmed over his chest. You bit your lip as you look around, making sure no had seen what had just happened. Not that anyone cared because they were too preoccupied with themselves, but you had to make sure— just for yourself. You wanted your first kiss to belong to you and Carter only.

But, it looked like one doesn’t always get what they want.

Because, as your eyes swept over the building, it seemed like the crowd parts just for your eyes to land on Bucky. His gaze trained onto your figure, stormy eyes narrowed and face lowered. He had clearly witnessed the kiss. He had the audacity to look— to look… you couldn’t pinpoint exactly the expression he wore, but it was somewhere between angry and betrayed. You didn’t want to delude yourself and pretend like he cared, but your eyes didn't lie. Clearly, you’d struck some sort of nerve within him.

 _Good,_ you thought to yourself. _Take a long look. I’m doing just fine._

You swayed closer to Carter, whispering anything and everything you could muster. You had no idea when Bucky had arrived, but for the first time, he’s wasn't in the company of Brooklyn’s Devils. Instead, he had two women on his arm, a blonde and a brunette. You smiled humorlessly to yourself, thinking about the irony of the situation, and how it mirrored the first time you met him. He’s come full circle.

Your smile faltered as you realized this must have meant that Steve was back home again, alone. You wanted to give Bucky a piece of your mind; let him know it’s not fair to keep bringing Steve girls that are only going to want Bucky, but you didn’t. Because even if Bucky no longer had your best interests at heart, he certainly had Steve’s.

So, you let your focus return to Carter once again, who was still giddy off the energy of the kiss. You placed another quick peck on his lips.

“One more song, ‘kay?” You pleaded. He nodded happily, spinning you around. You lost yourself in the music, letting it waft over you. The song ended all too soon, and you yawned lightly as Carter lead you off of the dance floor and back onto one of the bar stools. He instructed you to wait there as he quickly took a trip to the washroom. You waited patiently, watching him leave.

Unwillingly, you let your line of sight drift back over to where you knew Bucky was positioned. It seemed you were wrong before, because there were in fact, many other people next to him. The devils, of course, and one other woman, who seemed to be close friends with the brunette and the blonde. They must have joined him while you were dancing. You saw Rob and Ryder— with their eyes trained on you— whisper something to Bucky, and although you couldn't hear them, you heard Bucky’s response.

“I don’t care _what_ the hell it is that you do” He spat, returning back to his drink. You noted Rob’s face stretching into a sickening grin, and just like that, he was rising to his feet with Ryder in tow.

“Hi there, Y/N,” Ryder cooed. You resisted the urge to gag.

“I’m tired of this, Ryder. I get it, you two hate me.” You said immediately. “Go find a girl or two to entertain yourselves with for the night.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Rob interrupted. “We’re both shipping out first thing in the morning. And, you looked pretty darn good, devastatin’ yourself onto that gentleman. You wouldn’t turn down the final wish of two soldiers, would you?” Your face contorted with disgust, as you realized the implication behind his request.

“Are you _dense_?” You asked, your eyebrows scrunched together. You watched their expressions change to amusement. “I’m with Carter.”

“We might be idiots, but we’re not blind.” Rob said, earning a shove from Ryder. “I don’t see Carter anywhere. D’ya see him, Ryder?” His friend feigned cluelessness as he scanned the crowd for Carter’s face. He shook his head.

“You two are disgusting,” You managed, shaking your head. Ryder shrugged as if he was saying _‘Nothing I can do about that,’_ and swooped at your wrist.

“Get the _fuck_ off of me,” You hissed, wrenching your hand out his greasy grasp. They watched with surprise as you left the building, walking away until you were out of their line of sight. Then, you began to run. Carter would understand why you left. Bucky was all too preoccupied with his ladies to notice your figure slipping away.

What you didn't understand, is that they let you leave. They let you entertain the notion of sweet escape, until you were making your way through the back alleyway. You were looking over your shoulder as you speed walked, muttering to yourself, until you hit a tall figure. Or, rather, the shoulders of two tall figures.

“Where do you think you’re going, _sweetheart?_ ” Rob asked, his voice low. You gulped. You looked over your shoulder again, desperately hoping there would be anyone else walking through the same alley. You stepped back slowly as they both stepped forward. “It’s rude to not offer hospitality to the soldiers of your country. _Awfully_ rude.” Ryder fisted his fingers into your hair, and you yelped helplessly as he thrusted you face first against the brick walls of the building. His friend used his strength to clasp your hands behind your back.

“You’re a selfish little whore,” You heard him mutter, as he yanked hard on your hair to draw your face back, until you could see him. “Rubbin’ yourself all up on one man and denyin’ another.”

“I…! I wasn’t!” You cried, hearing them laugh simultaneously. The sounds tore at your skin. You felt one of their clammy hands at the back of your neck, as it wrapped around the back collar of your dress. Your body shook with a violet sob as the fabric gave out with a deafening rip. The cold air nipped at your exposed skin, from the top of your neck to the back line of your bra where your dress has been torn.

You forced your mouth to stop trembling, your body hardening as you anticipated their next move. But, it didn’t come. In fact, you felt Rob’s grip on your hands loosen considerably until he wasn't holding you at all. The same could be said for Ryder, who’s hand escaped your hair as he groaned.

Carter was there.

You watched as he delivered blow after blow. They were more muscular than Carter by a long shot, but he was a lot taller— and faster. Rob and Ryder swung blindly, but Carter’s moves were calculated and precise. They hit the right spots, and in a few minutes, the two of them were on the concrete, clutching various places on their body that would surely have bruises in the morning.

Carter immediately turned to you, and asked if you’re okay. Your lip started to tremble again. Only then, Carter seemed to notice the state of your dress. He wrenched off his suit, and wrapped it around your shoulders, guiding you away from the worming mass of Rob and Ryder’s bodies.

You were shaking. With anger, with sadness, with… with…

You wanted to deliver a few blows of your own, but you contained yourself, and followed Carter. He wrapped a protective arm around you, and lead you to brighter streets.

The walk was silent. Carter thankfully didn’t ask questions, and you were so busy contemplating what had happened, that you didn’t notice where you two were walking until were in front of Steve’s apartment building. You turned to Carter, surprised.

“Figured if there was anyone you wanted to talk to, it’d be him,” He offered, a small, comforting smile on his lips. You wanted to cry. You wanted to cry because you don’t deserve him.

“Thank you,” You whispered, your voice cracking. Carter shook his head immediately, and clasped your hands. Then, without another word, he turned and left.

You still had his coat.

With a deep, fortifying breath, you raised your fist and knocked on the door. Steve unlocked the door with a surprised expression, his face changing to horror as he noticed your tear-stained cheeks, and mussed hair.

“I _hate_ him, Steve.” You managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really, really do.”

He ushered you inside.

* * *

Bucky was exhausted by the time he returned to his and Steve’s apartment. It was at the crack of dawn and he had about an hour or two until he needed to head to the docks. He hadn’t gotten any sleep tonight, but he figured he could sleep on the oversea trip to Europe. He told himself it was because he wanted to enjoy his last night in Brooklyn.

But, if he were to be honest with himself, he knew it was because he wouldn’t have gotten any sleep anyway. He knew it was all a sad attempt at distracting himself, so he wouldn't think about you. He was too deep in his mind, as he unlocked the door. He walked blindly to his bedroom until Steve cleared his throat.

“You said it would be easier for us all,” Steve said, his voice eerily calm. Bucky scrunched in his eyebrows. “You know what’s not easy? Having to comfort my best friend at midnight, while she chokes on her own tears.”

And, suddenly, it was like Steve had dumped a bucket of ice water on Bucky head.

“Wh— What?” He asked, his voice bewildered, eyes widened.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Steve murmured lowly. “I’m really— _really_ … disappointed. In you.”

“You’re scaring me,” Bucky warned, stepping closer to Steve’s sitting form. “What are you talking about?”

“I honestly don’t even know if I should tell you,” Steve breathed, shaking his head. Bucky’s heart sped up further. He dropped to his knees in front of Steve, so he could be level with him.

“Steve, what is it?!” Bucky asked, his eyes wild.

“Your goal was to make her hate you, right?” Steve demanded, sniffing with disbelief. “Congrats, Buck. Mission accomplished.” Bucky fell back against the carpet, completely stupefied. “You wanna know what I think? I think that somewhere in the back of your head, you thought you had control over the situation. I think that all while you were making her hate you, somewhere in your mind, you thought that you could fix it. You thought you could come back from war, and— and just work your charm. But… _you went too far._ ”

“What?” Bucky whispered hoarsely, tears making their way to his eyes. He had quite a bit to drink, and in the morning, he could pretend and blame it on the alcohol. “What’d I do?”

Bucky didn’t remember exactly how Steve had phrased his words, because as he had spoke, the blood rushing to his ears had been all too loud. He remembered clenching his fists. He vaguely remembered his vision going white with anger as he listened to what Rob and Ryder had done. His heart dropped to his stomach. Without even realizing, Bucky was rising to his feet.

_“I’m gonna kill them,”_

“Stop, Bucky,” Steve instructed, his voice tired, when he noticed Bucky’s locked jaw and the rigidness of his posture. “You can’t blame them. You knew exactly what kind of people they were when you got involved with them, and you knew exactly what kind of people they were when you let them get involved with Y/N.”

“That’s not fair!” Bucky all but growled. “I didn’t— that wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t _what?_ ” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “Can you look me in the eye and pretend like you’re not at fault here? Pretend like you didn’t tell them _‘I don’t care what you do,’_ tonight?”

Bucky was at a loss of words, and fell to his knees once again.

“Is she… is she okay?”

“No, Bucky, she’s not.” Steve answered truthfully. It’s like a punch to his gut. “She’s a mess, as she should be, with all that’s happened. But, she doesn’t need you to put her back together. Not anymore.” He rose to his feet, and Bucky face dropped into his hands.

_What have I done?_

“She blames you, Buck. And you’re my best pal, but… so do I.” With that, Steve walked off to his room to get some sleep.

Suddenly, Bucky was rising to his feet, and running. He didn’t bother to even lock the door as he sprinted down the stairs, and began to dash through the Brooklyn streets. The sun was beginning to rise, and it seemed to encourage him as he raced across the concrete.

He didn’t know what he was going to say. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. All he knew is that he needed to see you.

One last time, he needed to take you in, before he leaves. The supple skin that encompasses your body, the smile that tugs at his heartstrings, and the heat of your gaze.

As he ran, he wondered vaguely if the universe is on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run, Bucky, Run! 
> 
> LMFAO Let me know what you thought! I have to get going, because I have to do something, so there might be stuff that I overlooked. I will fix, so feel free to comment about those! Thanks. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is not entirely linear/in chronological order so please pay attention to dates! :)

**Brooklyn, New York — 1943  
**

You stumbled out of bed, rubbing at your eyes as you made your way to the door. You groaned quietly; you had barely gotten any sleep at all. You took a quick peek at the clock, which alerted you of exactly how early it was. You had half a mind to just ignore whoever felt the need to knock incessantly at 5 in the morning, but made your way to the door all the same.

_Who the hell visits at this hour?!_

“Carter, is that you?” You asked, a yawn cutting through your words. You had no idea who else it could've been. Certainly not Steve, who had been kind enough to walk you home after you had collapsed into tears at this apartment not less than 5 hours ago.

The knocking stopped abruptly. Whoever was on the other side of the door took a deep breath.

“It’s me, doll,” You heard Bucky’s voice say. He sounded  _wrecked._ “It’s Bucky.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, and stumbled back a few steps. Suddenly, you were much more awake, and you’re overcome with more emotion than you’ve felt in months. You don’t know how to feel. He hadn’t called you ‘doll’ in weeks. He hadn’t directed that tone— the soft, tentative one— towards you in so long, that at this point, it’s practically foreign to you.

Minutes pass but it seems like hours. Bucky gave you time, but you were already wondering if you should just retreat back to bed, and avoid this all together.

“Y/N?” He asked, his voice quiet. Only then did you realize that he was taking short, shallow breaths.

_Did he run here?!_

“You can’t be here,” You whispered, more as assurance to yourself than as a reply. He heard you through the door anyway; _of course_ he did.

“I know…” He started. “ _Jesus,_ I know. I have absolutely no right to be here, but—”

“Why _are_ you here?” You interrupted, chewing on your bottom lip. “Steve said you’d be leaving for England first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll be heading to the docks soon, but I couldn’t go… without seeing you,” He said. “Look, before I say more, will you open the door?”

“No,” You replied immediately, your voice firm. _“No.”_

“I understand,” He soothed instantly, not missing a beat. “But, if I can’t see you, then I’m gonna need you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that for me?” You didn’t say anything. He continued, unprompted. “What I said _that_ night, when all of this started, it was—”

“Don’t,” You croaked.

You sounded a little wrecked too.

“Don’t you _dare_ come back here, an hour before you leave, and tell me that you didn’t mean it,” You said, trying to sound authoritative. “You— you have no idea what you— I’m…”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologize!” You almost yelled. “ _Christ,_ I know you’re sorry, that’s what makes all of this so _hard,_ ” You said, letting your forehead rest against the coolness of the door. You heard Bucky knock his forehead against the other side, as if he could somehow feel you against him. For some reason, that made you want to _sob._ “Don’t apologize, because then… because then it’ll be my fault. I’ll feel guilty for not forgiving you. I’ll feel guilty for letting you go off to war without letting you see me.”

“You’re not at fault for any of this,” He replied, his voice filled with conviction.

“You’re right, I’m not,” You agreed, wiping at the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “ _You_ are. I don’t know— know _why_ you thought it would work. I don’t know if Steve was in on it. But, I’m not an idiot. You thought you could just make me hate you without any repercussions so you could ride off to war without a guilty conscience.”

“When did you figure it out?”

“Tonight,” You supplied. “When you were watching me and Carter.”

“Are you happy with him?” He asked, his voice low.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” You bit back sharply, and for some reason, that hurt Bucky a lot more than any other response you could have provided. “But, that’s beside the point. I’m done, Bucky. I was stupid to let myself fall for you, and I was stupid to think that you could—”

Right away, you felt the weight of Bucky’s head move off of the door.

“You _what_?” He asked, his voice the epitome of composure; nothing like it had been seconds ago. You took a big gulp.

_Shit._

“Yeah,” You answered, trying to play off the immensity of your words. “I lo— I _liked_ you… as more than just a friend. I liked you a lot, actually. At first, I lied awake at night thinking about you. Your ridiculous jokes, your daredevil attitude, your…” You stopped to sigh.

Bucky clung to your slip-up like a man starved.

“I— _you what?_ ” He begged again, this time more stunned than ever. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“And then, after that first night you told me you hated me, I lied awake for a different reason. I lied awake because it was hard to sleep through the sounds of my own cries, and the feeling of tears running down my face.”

And, it was like someone had knocked the wind out of Bucky’s lungs, because with your every word, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into a pit of self-loathing. God, he had just _let_  you cry yourself to sleep, and now that he knew you liked— possibly _loved_ — him, it’s so much worse that Bucky wanted to collapse. He let you hate him, and he let you embark on a new chapter of your life without him. He made you feel inadequate and let you get hurt by those _dicks_.

_God, what was I thinking?!_

He wasn’t, evidently.

Worst of all, he let you move on.

“Y/N, I’m really gonna need you to open this door,” Bucky managed to choke out. Something in the atmosphere shifted, and he made out your wrist wrenching the door knob open. And, then he saw you.

Somehow, his world fell apart and thrummed to life at the same time.

Your eyes were bloodshot, crimson like polished apples, and he didn't know if it was from the lack of sleep or from your tears. You had your arms wrapped around yourself, almost like an armor, and Bucky had a thought in the back of his mind to tell you _he_ could be your armor. You looked so _small_ and so soft; he couldn’t believe the last time he was going to see you, was going to be like this. Looking so _broken._ Because of him.

And, despite it all, you were an utter vision to him. The supple pillow of your bottom lip jutted adorably, and a stray, curled strand of your hair canopied your face. You made no effort to move it, but he wished he could tuck it behind your ear, if only to feel your skin one last time. You gazed up at him innocently through your lashes, and he just about fell to his knees. He wanted to gather you into his arms and make you see exactly how sorry he was.

“I wish I was special to you, James,” You started, and the way you said ‘ _James_ ’ stirred the blood in his arteries to something else entirely. “But, if I was, you wouldn’t have ever had a second thought about doing what you did.”

 _‘You **are** special!’_ He wanted to yell. He wanted to bury his face into your neck and tell you over and over how special you were. He wanted you to believe him. He wanted you to clutch him back and give him a reason to return to Brooklyn after the war.

“You should go, Bucky. The war is waiting.” You sighed, your hand coming to rest at the door. “Whatever makes you happy…”

 _You! It’s you!_ He thought. 

“…because it isn’t me.” You finished, moving to close the door. “G’bye, James.”

“So, that’s it?” He asked, somehow managing to peer up at you through his lashes despite the fact that he was literally looming over you. It made the boa constrictor around your heart squeeze tighter. You took a moment to contemplate his words.

“That’s it.” You confirmed.

Bucky refused to accept that.

_This isn’t going to be how it ends._

He halted the door with his palm, and you looked up, surprised. He slipped a ring off his finger, the presence of which you hadn’t even noticed until then. It wasn’t a flashy thing; just a thick silver band that glistened in the light when he outstretched it in the pads of his fingertips.

“What’s this?” You inquired skeptically. A slow smile spread across his face; a genuine one. It had been so long since you’d seen it, that for a moment, you didn’t recognize it. It made your chest ache, and your gaze flutter to his mouth.

“A promise,” He answered. You weren't quite sure how to respond to that. He didn’t await an answer. Instead, he gently took your wrist, and placed the ring gently onto your ring finger. It was an odd fit, not quite right for your ring finger, but somehow it worked. 

It wasn't even on your left hand, but the way he tapped your ring finger and looked up at you meaningfully, made you blush.

He ran his thumb in circles over the skin of your palm, and you really wished he would stop. Mostly, because you felt like you were disrespecting Carter in some strange way, and a little because it was distracting and familiar and _nice_. Really freaking nice.

“I don’t know what you think you’re promising, but whatever it is, rest assured that I didn’t ask for it,” You managed, finally working up the strength to pry your hand away from his. You missed the warmth instantly, and his hand chased yours for a second, as if it had a mind of it’s own.

“It’s as much a promise to you as it is to myself; I'll come back for you.” He clarified, firmer this time. “And… I always keep my promises.” As he spoke, he found the courage to bring his hand up and slide that lone curl of hair behind your ear. He pretended that he doesn’t fume with anger when you flinch and shrink away from his hand, like you’re expecting something else.

 _I’m gonna kill them,_ He thinks.

“Well, then… good luck, sergeant.” You finally provided, straightening your posture. “Fight the good fight.”

“For you?” He asked, giving you one final smile, a small tug against the corner of his mouth more than anything. His eyes were forlorn, and you wished he would stop looking at you like that. “Anything.”

You shut the door, and returned to your room to shove the ring into a drawer.

* * *

**_3 Months Later — Europe_ **

There’s a tarp on the ground, but Bucky could still feel the mud underneath his back. He rolled and thrashed, trying to find some semblance of peace so he can get an hour or two of shut eye, before he had to return to the battlefield from the safety of the trenches. His fellow soldiers yelled at him to _‘Stop fucking moving, Barnes!’_ So, he did. But knew he won’t be able to sleep.

He rose from him position, and made his way to the crackling fire and the person guarding it. Harris, he thought. He could be wrong. Bucky offered to take watch for the next couple of hours, and for a moment, Harris eyed him skeptically. But nevertheless, he nodded and let Bucky sit by the log, resuming a sleeping position onto Bucky’s place on the tarp.

He was glad someone could sleep.

He wasn't sure when his sleep schedule became so botched, but he preferred being awake to the unpredictability of his sleep. Sometimes, he dreamt of New York— the way the hard liquor from Louis’ always burned his throat in the best way possible. His sister, Rebecca’s, rambling but endearing speeches. The feel of warm sand under his toes at Rockaway Beach. Sometimes, he dreamt of Steve. And, when he was lucky, he dreamt of you.

Other times, he dreamt of cannons, and wounded soldiers— his _friends_ — bleeding out on a field, and begging him to tell their family that they were loved. He dreamt of the blood he has on his hands.

It was never worth the gamble. So, he stayed awake, until his body screamed at him for relief, and he fell into bursts of sleep between battles. It wasn't the healthiest strategy, but he had never crumpled down on the battlefield, so it must've been doing the trick.

He thought about you as he stared into the fire. It taunted him, the flames dancing and licking the air with each curve. It crackled angrily, and he had to lean back to avoid getting scorched.

A realization came to him a week ago, in the midst of an ambush. He was lying on his back, immobile while the rest of his squadron did their best to defend off the attackers. He’d been pinned to the ground with a knife at this throat by a soldier, the blade digging so deep that blood leaked from a fresh wound while he struggled to get air past his windpipe.

He’d thought of you.

Mirages of your laughter, and rich voice sending surges of energy in his bones. You were in his mind’s eye, telling him that he could fight this. He had slammed up against the attacker’s body, causing him to stagger backwards, and just like that, Bucky was back on his feet.

It wasn’t until he had returned to the infirmary a couple of hours later, that something clicked and dawned on him. And, it hit him like a goddamn freight train, but somehow he knew all along too.

_I love her._

The thought brought a smile to his face, but it came as soon as it went. He returned to reality, and it dawned on him, that he’s _ruined_ it. He had destroyed everything. If there was any chance before, he had truly blown it to smithereens.

Bucky Barnes sat by a fire, and clenched his jaw as an unbidden tear made it’s way down his face.

* * *

**_3 Months Later — Brooklyn_ **

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the Howling Commandos and the 107th has been killed in action. He has been reported dead on the 20th of March, 1944. I, Colonel Chester Phillips, would like to extend to you and your family my deepest sympathy in your great loss.”

That’s how the letter begins. It had been delivered to Bucky’s family, and Rebecca had been kind enough to show it to you. When you read it for the first time, you didn’t know what to do— what to feel. You felt… numb. Guilty.  _Ruined._

 

Later that night, you were sitting in your room his silver band out from it’s dark home of the drawer and resting on your ring finger. You were twirling it aimlessly, as if that was going to soothe the stinging pain in your chest you’ve accumulated over the past couple of hours; sobbing hysterically, and gasping for breath. The gaping hole that he's shaped when he had left you. 

_Bucky’s gone._

He’d spun your world on it’s heels, made you see stars, attempted to demolish your life’s happiness and all that was left of him to you was this sad little ring. You were sitting and mourning a ghost.

Suddenly, you were angry. You hated it. You hated that you hadn’t gotten to scream, and kick, and shove him in the chest. You hated that you hadn’t gotten the chance to yell at him about how much he’d hurt you. You hated that after all was through, you wouldn’t get to forgive him.

You hadn’t even a chance to tell him that you loved him.

They say the dead hold grudges.

It’s been six months since Bucky had left for war, but so much has changed that you had almost forgotten about him. You worked at the hospital now— full time. You had quit your job at the library with glossy eyes, and a haphazardly wrapped present from your manager. It had turned out to be three of your favorite books, and it was so thoughtful, it almost had been enough to make you stay.

But, you loved working at the hospital as nurse. You worked with younger kids, and although you weren’t truly a doctor or respected in that sense, you knew the work you did was vital to the patient’s health and the doctor’s success. Kids always seemed happy to see you too— when you weren’t giving them vaccinations, that is. But, a lollipop or two always seemed to do the trick.

You always brought home a few for Carter- he was always an utter child for the candies. How on earth he still had all his teeth, was a mystery to you.

He was perfect nonetheless. You two had grown much closer in the span of the seven to eight months you’d known each other than you’d expected. He seemed to be very serious about his relationship with you, which was good. You were pretty darn serious about it yourself.

It all seemed microscopic to your life now. Because, Bucky’s body was tossed aside in the midst of some cliff, rotting away, never to be found again because he’d decided that he wanted to serve the country. Your chest heaved as it released another cry.

This is exactly why you hadn’t wanted him to leave.

You wondered if Steve _knew._

You were so occupied in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear the low ‘click’ of your front door opening. It was almost midnight, and the moon adorned the sky with a luminescent glow that peeked through your windows. It bounced off the chromatic metal on your ring, and you were so entranced by the view, that you were unaware of anyone else’s presence until you heard a low and disembodied voice make it’s way through your room.

You looked up, panicked, trying to find the source of the sound. You automatically climbed up further in your bed. All your lights were turned off, save for the thin mask of light the moon provided. The voice spoke again.

“Y/N Y/LN. Best friend to Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.” It declared. It was unnerving. You made out something of a figure in the shadows, but being clueless to their appearance makes you a lot more apprehensive than you thought possible. “You must be something else.”

“Who are you?” You finally found the strength to ask, your voice shaking.

“I’m a… friend.” It replied. “You are Y/N, correct? We have— _I have_ — been looking for you for a very long time. Of course, originally, we had anticipated James but if you’re worthy of both Steve Rogers and his oldest friend’s time, well…. That, paired with the fact that our dear sergeant has now passed, makes you… perfect.” You tried to slow the relentless thundering of your heart, and began to think of ways you could escape.

_Perfect for what?!_

“Friends don’t break into friend’s houses at this time of night,” You said, fisting your bedsheets from underneath your hand. You repeated your question. “Who are you?”

“My name is Lafayette.” He finally revealed, deciding to step into the light. And, when he did, you almost wished he would have stayed in the shadows. “It’s French.”

He was tall, almost unsettlingly so, and lanky in a way that should've indicated no danger, but there was something about him that caused you to gulp. His skin was pale— so much so, that you could see the terrain of blue and red veins pulsing underneath his skin. His posture was perfect, feet planted firmly against each other. His lips were thin and taut; smiling mirthlessly. The thing that drew your attention though, was the vicious white scar that spanned the length of his face. It ran from the arch of his left brow bone to his chin. You could tell it was old, but it’s effect on his face was as prominent as it is permanent. It brought an air of menace to him that he didn’t need, but added to his aura anyway.

“The etymology of _‘Lafayette,’_ can argue that it means… ‘small crack.’” You could tell he found humor in the irony. There was nothing small about the cracked scar on his face.

“Okay, Lafayette,” You bit. “What is it that you want?”

“Peace in our time.”

You barely had a second to grasp the speed at which he jerked towards you, because by that time, everything had gone black.

* * *

**_North America — 1946_ **

You didn’t remember all of it.

You remembered flashes. You remembered scalpels, sutures, and blood-curling screams. You remembered being cold. You remembered an emerald, tear shaped gem. You remembered injections and the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol.

Torture. You remembered torture.

You were sitting in your room, (but if you were honest, it was more of a holding cell than anything) because for the first time in a really long time, you could remember the things that mattered. Your name. Where you were born. You remembered a short, slender blonde boy with bright blue eyes.

You knew you had been here for almost two years, if not more. The days seemed to bleed into the nights without making an effort to alert you of it’s departure. Therefore, every time you awoke to the shrill, ear-splitting sounds awaking you from your slumber for the day, you scratched a tally mark into the bottom of the sorry excuse of rusted iron they liked to call a bed. You’d started doing this some time— a few months?— after your capture.

They called themselves DIVISON. You knew for a fact they weren't an official government organization of the United States; their passionate, hateful, and frequent speeches towards some other US-based organizations made that clear. SHIELD and HYDRA.

“Peace in our time,” They said their missions were. When you got the chance to eavesdrop on some of the their plans? It sounded more like sabotage, espionage and assassination.

You twirled your fingers, watching the faint golden light emanate from your fingertips. You did remember the first time you had accumulated your powers. How they had convinced you to use it.

* * *

_**1944** _

_Cold._

_So goddamn cold._

_You shivered as you sat up, your huddled frame shaking. You looked up, taking in the people around the room, lab coats and soulless expressions being the commonality between them. The only thing you did was blink. You studied the room with a stoic expression._

_“Subject 409, how are you feeling?” Dr. Lafayette asked, a clipboard at the ready to record your response. You continued to blink, and for a moment Dr. Lafayette didn’t think you had heard him._

_“I asked, how are you fee-”_

_“Like I’ve been cut open, and… and I’ve had volcanic rock poured through my veins.”_

_Your voice had the quality of metal— cold, lifeless, and even._

_The doctor had the gall to let out a small laugh— an exhale of air, more than anything, his eyes still unnerving— cocking his head as he wrote down your response._

_“What is it the kids say these days? No pain, no gain?”_

_You stared at the doctor, no hint of hurt or anger on your face. Your eyes didn’t twinkle with the presence of life like it should have. This would’ve made the Doctor apprehensive had he not wiped you of the person you used to be, two minutes ago._

_“Why can’t I remember my name?”_

_“You will. Soon.” You shot your head up towards the doctor, starting to get frustrated with his cryptic aura. “The wipe is temporary. We’re free to wipe you of your old life as often as we want, but for now, it’s just a precaution. Your memories are a vital part of your powers.”_

_**Powers?** _

_Before you could open your mouth to reply, the door to the room opened. It came closed before you could look out of the door._

_In front of you, was a… puppy._

_He was wounded. His paw twisted gruesomely, facing a direction it certainly should not have been facing. It whimpered, then barked timidly. It broke your heart, and you looked up to the doctor for an explanation._

_He did nothing but smile sickeningly, and gesture to the injured animal._

_**What the hell was that supposed to mean?** _

_You got up cautiously, your movements slow and deliberate, to show you meant no harm. You took a seat on the ground next to the dog, and gently scratched at his fluffy fur. The puppy whined, and you continued to pet him._

_“What do you want me to do?!” You hissed at the doctor, who studied you skeptically. All the doctor did was take more notes in his notebook, and it fueled your growing anger. You started to get up, making your way towards the infuriating doctor, your intent clear. But, two of the larger doctors came and halted you in your perusal. They gestured to the spot you’d been sitting in, next to the Golden Retriever. The threat wasn’t verbal, but it was definitely present as the Doctors stared you down._

_**‘Stay. Or we’ll make you.’** _

_You turned back toward the animal, and carefully stroked your way to his wounded leg, your touch barely grazing the light fur. You wished desperately that you could make it better, but you didn’t know how you was supposed to be of help._

_“I’m sorry,” You said, feeling tears at the edge of your eyes. You squeezed gently at his wounded paw. The puppy gave a small, helpless yap. You focused on it’s large, pleading, eyes and for some reason you wanted to cry. You felt so useless._

_Somehow, a metallic-gold fog was began to radiate from the tips of your fingers. You felt a tugging in the veins of your hand, and you gasped audibly as you finally noticed. You shook your hand, as if that could force it off. It didn’t work. The mist continued to make it’s way towards the dog’s paw. Before you knew what was happening, one of the doctors approached. They twisted the joint back into place, and the mutt howled in pain. But, it only lasted for a second._

_Suddenly, the dog was yapping happily. He was getting up and walking— no… he was running. He began bounding happily throughout the lab but you didn't get to enjoy it’s newfound freedom. You suddenly felt a terrible exhaustion making it's way through your body, and you collapsed onto the floor._

* * *

When you woke up, you convinced yourself it was a good thing. You had been granted the ability to heal others! The nurse inside you did a little dance despite the darkness of the situation. This lifted your mood, but you should have known better.

The next day, when you had healed up, you realized healing wasn't your only power. They forced you— with serums and electricity and restrictive ties that dug into your skin and left bruises for months— until you had undone your good. Until you had paralyzed the small dog.

One minute the canine was fine, and the next, as your powers entered it’s back and into it’s spinal cord, he was unmoving. The dog tumbled onto it’s side and released a low whine. You wanted to cry. You weren't sure what exactly you had done to him, but you knew that he wouldn't ever be able to move again. Unless you worked your powers, but as the doctors carried the mutt away, you knew you won’t get that chance. Especially not with the way your eyelids drooped, and you began to feel the exhaustion making it's way through your body once again.

It seemed minuscule later to the things they made you do.

“Molecular manipulation,” Lafayette had said. That’s what he had coined your powers to be. To build up and to break down. Twist any living creature to your liking like you were some… puppetmaster. The only drawback, Lafayette had said, was that it was at the cost of your own health.

They made your test yourself everyday, to build up your tolerance. Within a few months, feats that caused you to faint from fatigue in the beginning became ones that took little more than a flick of your wrist.

And, then, they forced you to push yourself harder. To do more. To recover more. To _ruin_ more.

_“I can’t do it!” You had growled, about a year into your capture, growing increasingly irritated. “I’m not strong enough,”_

_“There should be no reason, for you not to be strong enough, Subject 409. You’re the first to survive our experiments and prove our hypotheses true.” Lafayette argued. “You possess the raw and unfiltered power of the soul stone. There should be no reason for you not to be able to heal a dying man.”_

_“But, you saw me! I almost went into a coma last week trying to save that man from a heart attack!”_

_“No, 409. You’re just not motivated enough. You can do more.”_

_You saw Lafayette signal something to one of the other doctors, his fingers curling in a motion that said ‘Enter.’ Almost automatically, the impenetrable steel door of the dark room swung open and for the first time in a year, you felt a flicker of familiarity in your chest._

_It was a man, his wrists held forcibly against his back by a few guards, and a piece of tape slapped across his mouth. He was in pain, that much was clear. The collar of his shirt was torn and frayed, and you didn’t know how long he’d been here. But, he was a hostage of DIVISION; a victim._

_They ripped the tape off of his mouth savagely. You didn’t recognize him— not right away. But, the way he smiled sadly, showing off a pretty set of dimples despite being in the immense amount of pain he was in, almost as if to let you know that you needn’t worry about him, tugged at your heart. And, inevitably, a word— or name, rather— came to mind._

_**Carter.** _

_You didn’t dare yell it out. You couldn’t tell them that you recognized him. Even if it was just his name. He meant something to you, and you knew it. You would hold onto that for as long as you could._

_The doctor stared you down, and you were powerless to watch as he stuck a knife into Carter’s upper stomach. You wailed helplessly, screaming at him to stop, but the doctor wouldn’t relent until blood began to gush out of Carter’s mouth as well as his torso as the knife no doubt punctured his lung. You clamped a hand over your mouth._

_“You can’t save him? Fine. Then, it’s up to you to watch him die,” Lafayette dropped Carter’s body onto the floor like a ragdoll. He signaled for everybody to leave the room, making to leave himself. “And, his death? It’s on you.”_

_“No, no. Please.” You begged like your life depended on it, but to no avail. As soon as everyone left, you scrambled to Carter’s body, cradling his head in your hands._

_“Hey, hey! Can you stay with me? Just a little while longer, I promise.” You knew your words were hard to understand through your blubbering tears, but Carter smiled._

_“It’s okay, Y/N.” He said, and somehow that made you cry harder. You couldn't remember the last time someone hadn’t called you ‘Subject 409.’ “It doesn’t hurt.”_

_**No! No.** _

_You allowed the warm light escape through your fingers, watching as your powers stitched the wound shut with strings of flesh. You felt your life force leaving you body as it entered his, but damn it, you didn’t care. You were going to save him. Carter began to gasp, each breath coming out and going in forcibly._

_It was too late. There was too much blood._

_“I love you,” He said, his voice soft. You couldn’t breathe, your powers still working to heal him, yet somehow not enough. You were never enough._

_He began to move, and you wanted to tell him to stop, because it would only make the blood gush faster. He seemed intent though, mustering up the strength to shove his hands into his pockets. It seemed he wanted to show you something._

_He never got a chance to take it out. He perished in front of your own two eyes, a smile on his face. The light left his eyes. Your lip quivered and your clutched his unresponsive body. You took two fingers, and smoothed his eyelids shut._

_You heard footsteps on the other side of the door beginning to approach. You wanted to scream until your lungs collapsed. They couldn’t even let you pay your respects and mourn him properly._

_Before they could enter, you quickly clutched Carter’s wrist and brought it out of his pocket. You didn’t know what he wanted to show you. It was in his hand, his fist wrapped tightly around it like a protective shield. You unwrapped his fingers from the item._

_It was a tiny box. A box made of expensive-looking ruby velvet._

_You heard the door beginning to open, so you quickly shoved the box into the baggy pockets of your sweatpants. It was the first time you had an appreciation for the things they chose to clothe you in._

_They wrenched away Carter’s body from your hands, and you shrieked and bawled with every ounce of strength until your voice could work no longer. They didn’t care. They knew you had spent all of your energy healing Carter. There was nothing you could do but watch, as one of the guards came and took Carter away. You sobbed._

_“We’re done with testing for today. You may return to your room. I hope this has taught you a thing or two.”_

It had.

You were going to pillage everything DIVISON had ever held dear.

Even if it meant bringing yourself to your own demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If stuff is confusing, DO NOT WORRY, I will clear it up by the next chapter. :)
> 
> Also, that “Peace in our time,” line is totally from AOU. Another thing: the idea of DIVISON is from the show Nikita. That show’s DIVISON and this fic’s DIVISON are not similar, but I liked the name, so I stole it. lol


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened between 1943 - 2016?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to dates!

**_North America — 1948_ **

“I know what you’re thinking,” Came a soft voice to your right. You whipped your head towards the figure, relaxing your tensed position when you saw who it was. “You’re smart. Don’t be reckless.” You wondered how she knew.

“It’s been a year since he died,” You said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She said, looking up at you once she was finished setting down your food. You nodded, knowing her words were sincere. Although she wasn’t here for Carter’s death, she had extensive knowledge of the event.

Ms. Marie (“Call me Alyssa,”) was one of the few people in the facility who treated you like a human being. She was very young, there was no uncertainty about it— you doubted she had even passed into her twenties. Her citrine hands always touched you softly when everyone else used theirs to bring you to your downfall, and her uplifting wide-set eyes never failed find you in a crowd of scalpels and stitches.

Not once did she perform any kind of test on you— she mostly just stood off to the side when they experimented on you, and provided reassuring smiles during your times of distress. Then, when the doctors were done yanking tubes out of your body and stuffing chemicals inside you, she revealed her camera and quickly snapped photos of your wounds so they could be analyzed by in-house scientists.

That was supposed to be her only job; to take pictures, and leave. But what the others didn’t know was how she was your salvation through your times of torment.

“I know how much he loved you. Carter wouldn’t want you doing something as thoughtless and impossible as trying to take DIVISON down this quickly. As much as I want the same thing, we both know this program is beyond us both.” Your body stiffened.

“What do you mean? Why would you want the same thing?”

“I was at the top of my class at Bard,” She started, smiling lightly. When you cocked your head in confusion, she quickly wiped at a stray tear and elaborated. “It’s a— uh, college with an amazing fine arts program. I guess that’s how they found me… Threatened my family until I came to work for them.”

“Your family?” You mumbled softly, not having previous knowledge of this. She nodded.

“So, trust me when I say I know how you feel. But you’ll never be able to bring them down— not by yourself.” She said. “I did some reading up from their archive room, and… DIVISION was founded before the Renaissance. They had a different name back then, but they’ve had a hand in everything from the Spanish Inquisition to the French Revolution. They’ve gained too much momentum for you to stop.”

“I don’t care,” You growled. “They killed Carter. They’re turning me into something I don’t recognize, and you’re telling me there’s nothing I can do to stop them from doing the same to others in the future? I don’t believe that.” You said, swirling your fingers in the air, boasting your golden light as a reminder. Alyssa studied you, chewing on her lower lip contemplatively.

“I never said _that_ ,” She whispered. Your eyes flickered up to the woman in front of you. “I said you couldn’t do it alone, and that it would be reckless to think that you could do it now.”

“So, what, I should wait? I’m not getting any younger.” You sighed. Alyssa grinned— a full-blown, room illuminating, practically blinding grin.

“You know, it’s funny you should say that…” 

* * *

**_North America - 1956_ **

You stood in front of the mirror, fingers grazing just barely upon the flesh of your cheek as if one touch might bring an electric current rumbling through your body. It’s the first time you had seen yourself in a mirror in almost 15 years— an honest to god _mirror_ that displayed back to you each valley and swell of your body.

Sure, you’ve seen yourself in various reflective surfaces around the facility in the years of your capture, each object giving you a glimpse of the new lines in your face and the flatness of your hair. But, a mirror? This was new.

You didn’t recognize yourself.

You looked the exact same as you did the last time you looked into a real mirror— in 1943.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Dr. Lafayette asked, a grin on his face as he watched you poke at the firmness of your neck and the plumpness of your lips. “The magnitude of your powers are supremely vast.”

When you’d first looked into the mirror they’d given you, you had thought your eyesight had somehow been rendered defective. But, it wasn’t the case. Infact, your eyesight was better than it had been in years. You had truly just aged yourself back ten years.

“What does this mean?” You demanded, turning back to the gleeful doctor. “What have I done?” All the doctors had said to do was focus on what you remembered yourself being like when you’d first been brought to the facility; younger, faster, quicker. And, they said to let your powers do it’s magic.

And, sorcery it was.

“You’ve simply healed yourself in the same way you heal others, expect this time you’ve turned back the wounds of time,” He said, gesturing towards your arms.

“I wasn’t in this shape ten years ago,” You argued, gesturing towards tight and bulging feel of muscles you’d acquired from the arduous training you were put through daily.

“Your new muscular strength isn’t a wound to be healed. You’ve simply reversed the negative effects of aging. Strengthened your heart, fortified your cells… the works. Humans don’t die of old age, you know. They just become increasingly susceptible to disease and other phenomenons of the earth as their motor functions weaken with age. As long as you keep working to keep yourself strong, there’s no limit what you can do. How long you can live.”

“Are you telling me I’m immortal?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re untouchable,” The doctor laughed. “But, you can heal and hurt _yourself_ as you please— just like you can do to others. For centuries. Millennia, should you choose. You could be a god.” You stared at the ground, as if processing his words. You wondered why Lafayette was taking all of this so calmly.

What was to stop you from killing yourself with your powers and putting an end to all of this? What was to stop you from killing them all and running to your freedom?

“But, do be aware of the fact that you aren’t invincible. After all, your powers extend to living organisms only. For example, there is very little you can do once you’ve got a bullet between those pretty eyes.” He warned, as if he knew what you were thinking. He glanced towards the automatic snipers that hung from each corner of the room. The same kind of snipers that were hung in every room in the facility.

 _Right._ That’s what was stopping you.

“You’re free to go for the day,” He dismissed. You nodded shakily, your body tired but not entirely exhausted. You swallowed deeply, knowing Alyssa would be there to discuss DIVISION’s history with you.

 _“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. We need to find every crevice of DIVISION’s history, so we can bring it crashing. I don’t care if this plan outlives me— it certainly isn’t going to outlive you. So, you need to promise me you will see this to the end.”_ Alyssa had said. _“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt._ ”

So, you weren’t going to be a god. You were going to be a titan.

The doctors introduced you to each of your abilities gradually. At first, you had no idea what was going to happen each time you stepped into the testing room with Lafayette. That was before Alyssa had came along. She had access to DIVISION’s files, and knew of the half-century plan to turn you into DIVISION’s silver bullet. Or, golden bullet, rather. Now, every time you entered the lab, you knew exactly what was going to go down in the unwelcoming room for the day.

You knew somehow in the future, they would teach you to manifest your powers into something more. That last, final process wasn’t available in the easily accessible files, but you knew it was going to be something that surpassed even the wildest possibility you could conjure up. That was the main reason why your plan required so much time; you needed to be at your fullest potential when you went in for the strike. Alyssa suspected you’d be well-into the twenty first century by that time.

You didn’t mind. Patience suited everyone when they knew there was going to be beneficial outcome.

The only thing that nagged at you, was the fact that Alyssa wouldn’t get to see the results of your hard work. She was working as hard as you, and risking her life to make sure that your plan could be seen through to the end. She deserved to feel the satisfaction of doing something good, of changing the world, and having the freedom to capture it’s beauty on her own terms.

That you would have to do something about.

* * *

**_North America — 1960_ **

“Death is overrated,” Lafayette said. “It’s messy. Complicated. And, most of the time? Unnecessary.”

“Agreed,” You said, arms crossed up over your chest.

“But, sometimes push comes to shove,” The doctor finished. You raised an eyebrow. “You need to learn how to kill— using your powers.”

“I’m not sure sure murder is exactly an asset,” You snorted, rolling your eyes. “No thanks.”

“You’ve changed since your first mission. You’ve gotten bolder, braver, more confident. It’s all good and well— it suits you and your powers. But, I don’t need to remind you of your place here at DIVISION. There’s still a level or respect I expect from you. Just because you’ve gotten new degrees of freedom doesn’t mean that you still aren’t a product of DIVISION’s hard work.” Your cocky smile melted, and you gazed firmly at Lafayette through your lashes. “Think about where you would be if you hadn’t joined this organization,” He reprimanded.

_You mean where I would be if you hadn’t kidnapped me from my own home? Living a normal goddamn life, probably._

“You’re changing the world. And, we’re the ones who are making you powerful enough to it. Don’t forget that, 409.” Lafayette said, voice stern. You raised your chin defiantly, but said nothing. “Like I was saying, sometimes killing makes a difference between whether or not you make it out of a mission alive. We need to explore everything from the quickest to the most painful ways to get the job done. Do you understand me?” You nodded reluctantly.

“Good,” He supplied, motioning for someone to enter. A man and a woman were brought in by a few DIVISION doctors, the pair bound by the wrists and ankles, mouths plastered with adhesive. The doctors dropped the pair off and exited the room.

They had been captured recently, that much you could tell. With the exception of the inky tears that blackened the woman’s pale skin, the couple looked perfectly healthy. Upturned cheeks, bright eyes, and clean hair. You turned to Lafayette instantly, bewildered as you realized what exactly he was going to tell you to do.

“You’ve got another thing coming, Lafayette if you think that I’m—” You spat, glancing back at the two people sitting in front of you. He laughed, and shook his head.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to judge a book by it’s cover?” He asked with a cock of his head. “These two people? Have been on the run for almost six years. They’ve left a trail of bodies all the way from the Gulf of Mexico to New York.” You almost didn’t believe him, whipping back to the couple kneeled in front of you. Suddenly, they didn’t seem all that scared. Their eyes held something of a challenge. You stormed to their waiting figures and wrenched off the tape from their mouths.

“Is this true?” You demanded. They remained silent but the smirks on their faces said everything. You looked back to Lafayette who continued all too happily.

“They’ve kidnapped young girls from their homes only to torture them to death. Mind you, this means electrocution, burning, drowning… shall I go on?” Lafayette asked. You shook your head, holding up a hand to halt him in his words. “They’ve killed 47 girls in the last six years, and every time they’ve been captured, they’ve escaped. There’s really nothing left to do with them.”

“But, that’s—”

“ _Nothing,_ ” Lafayette reiterated. “Now, let’s talk about options. Realistically, the fastest way to kill someone would be to destroy the brain with a type of rifle or projectile. And, although you’re supplied with a gun on your missions, there may come a time where you don’t have access to it. Therefore, the next best option is to sever the spinal cord. You can use your powers to do this and it’ll result in an almost immediate loss of the primary autonomous body functions. It should be painless, for the most part.” It baffled you how casually he talked about death and murder. When you looked at him with widened eyes, he chuckled.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a killer.” He said. “I’m a scientist. It’s my job to be fascinated about anything and everything.” His reasoning didn’t make you any less apprehensive, but it seemed like he didn’t care as he indicated towards the woman.

“She didn’t do any torturing herself, but she was the one who lured the girls in. Led the lambs to the slaughter. You can kill her quick.” Lafayette commanded, nodding at you. A tear escaped your eye, as you raised your hands towards the woman. She eyed the golden wisps of air beginning to make it’s way towards her. She didn’t seem fazed by your supernatural abilities, only grinning as the wisps traveled in her direction.

“Any regrets?” You croaked out. You had to make sure that there was nothing left to salvage of her soul.

“Only that I could not reach an even 50, Adivina Áurea,” She said, her lips curling into a sinister smile. You cocked your head, your wrists faltering at her words.

“What did you just say?” Lafayette asked, eyes narrowing at her.

“It’s Spanish, I think,” You whispered. “For Golden Diviner,” The woman looked pleased that you had understood her, the first emotion to show on her face. She turned to the man next to her, and they seemed to exchange a look, but before she could turn to face you, your wrist had regained it’s hardened stance. With a simple but confident jerk of your hand, a resounding crack rang out in the room. The woman did not make a sound as her body collapsed against the floor.

“Beautiful,” Lafayette whispered, watching in awe as her eyes slipped shut. Your body burned and you wanted to scream, but Lafayette was always adamant about being resilient in front of others. “Now, for her husband, there’s quite a few alternatives for you to explore. You could strangle him, puncture his lungs, obliterate his cells from the inside out— although that might take a bit more effort on your part.”

You tuned out his words, unable to focus on anything but the shaking of your hands. Your eyes lingered on the lifeless body of the wife in front of you, your face emotionless. You simply raised your fist, and held it in the air as if it were wrapped around a throat. And, like clockwork, the man began to splutter and gasp. You squeezed tighter.

“Ease up, 409,” The doctor chastised gravely. “You’re stopping the airflow. Not crushing his windpipe.” You did as instructed, loosening your grip. You didn’t know how long you held you position, watching your power asphyxiate the man until he too fell back against the floor. You watched as the hypoxia turned him blue and the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he died.

Lafayette wouldn’t know it, but when you got back to your room, you sobbed. You broke your legs kicking the soundproofed steel walls, and screamed until it hurt to breathe. Alyssa found you in the corner of your room a little while later, your bruised and bloodied knuckles staining her clothes as she held you through your bawls.

“I’m a monster, Alyssa,” You gasped through your tears. “I can’t do this. I can’t, I _can’t_ —” She only clutched you tighter, and sushed you with soothing coos and whispers.

“You’re not a monster, Y/N,” She said, smoothing her hands over your hair. “You’re not.” You only cried harder.

“I’m not strong enough. I can’t save others, I can’t take down DIVISION. I can’t even kill two _horrible_ people without breaking down. I’m _pathetic,_ ” You hissed, disgust lacing your voice. “I don’t see the point of living forever if I have to live it like this— alone and miserable.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you hear me?” Alyssa asked, bringing a hand to your chin, and turning your face to look at her. “You’re not pathetic. You’re human, you’re supposed to feel like this. It doesn’t matter what kind of people they were.”

“But—”

“Nope,” She said with a shake of her head, her eyes becoming glossy as she watched you. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re not going to go through this alone, I’m here.”

“It’s my fault that I’m here, and It’s my fault that you’re here too,” You argued, burrowing your face deeper into her neck, trying to hide your shame. “If I wasn’t here, than they wouldn’t have taken you.”

“It’s not your fault,” She murmured.

“Then, whose is it?”

“Lafayette’s, DIVISION’s, take your pick,” She supplied, pulling back to look at you. “But, certainly not yours.” You were about to protest when you heard footsteps outside your room. You quickly unwrapped her arms from your body, and told her about what you had heard.

“There’s someone coming, you should go,” You warned, looking away. Your powers got stronger with time, therefore every time you revitalized your cells, your senses returned stronger. You could hear the patter of distant footsteps from outside the walls.

Alyssa looked distraught— you assumed she was contemplating whether or not to let you go. But, in the end, she gave you tight squeeze and got up.

“Every time you feel the blood rushing, you tell yourself you’re strong enough.” She instructs. “You’re going to twirl Carter’s ring like you always do, and you’re going to remember that you’ve gotten through the worst of it. You’re going to change the world— not because DIVISION says you will, but because you want to.” You stared up at her as she left your room, and let your gaze drop back to your hand.

For a moment, you were confused. You knew for a fact that the ring Carter was planning to propose with was sitting safely in it’s velvet box, tucked under your bed sheets. You couldn’t gather up the courage to wear it. You would rather his memory stay safe and hidden away.

It took you a while too long to realize she was referring to Bucky’s ring. The simple chromatic circlet that rested on your ring finger. You were wearing it when Lafayette had taken you from your home. In the first year or so, back when they used to wipe your memories, you hadn’t the bravery to take it off. It might’ve been too important to your past.

But, by the time they relented in the wipings, your dependence upon the ring was too strong to let go of it. It had become an integral part of your torture, the pinprick feeling of the cool metal being the only thing to ground you. Bucky’s ring kept you alive.

_Bucky._

You hadn’t thought about that name in decades.

Your thoughts drifted before you could help it. Mirages of bodies against one another, cool nights, and never-ending laughs. Then, you recalled the nights of crying, the heartbreak, the betrayal. You frowned at the ring on your finger.

The feeling of worthlessness returned to your chest as you remembered his actions. You bit down on your lip, wondering where he would be right now if he hadn’t died in battle. For some inexplicable reason, you felt guilty. You hated that feeling, especially when taking account everything that had occurred. You weren’t at fault. He was.

The memories of the night Lafayette had taken you from your home returned to you. You had been crying over Bucky’s death, and it was dark. Lafayette had appeared, talking about how close you were to Steve Rogers and James Barnes. Your eyebrows contorted.

Hadn’t he said that Bucky was the original target for these experiments?

Your jaw locked, but before you could contemplate the matter any further, the previously approaching person had reached your doorstep. You took a deep breath, healed your bruised knuckles and fractured legs before going to answer the door.

* * *

**_North America — 1977_ **

“What’s this?” You asked, taking a seat at the large meeting table and staring up at the television screen at the front of the room. Displayed on the screen was the start of a blurry video. For a moment, you couldn’t understand what was happening because the person recording the video had quite the shake in their hands. But, after a minute of careful inspection, you realized what was going on.

You scoffed— it was a video of a party. You turned to Lafayette with an unamused expression, before he indicated towards the screen again. You were surprised by what you noticed this time around.

In the sea of neon colors, bell-bottoms, and disco lights… was a heavily-built woman in all black tactical gear. A mask even covered her face and eyes. You leaned forward in your seat, and watched the person stalk with purpose towards someone in the back of the room. She shoved through the crowds of dancing people with no care for being courteous, storming towards their intended target. You squinted.

“Is that Silas Sokolov?” You asked, your tone filled with disbelief as you referred to the person that was being approached by the woman in black. Lafayette nodded, a smile on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Silas ‘Sokol’ Sokolov was one the biggest arms dealers in the United States since the late sixties. He was certainly a man that garnered fear just by entering a room. It was very rare that one got him on tape. He must’ve been throwing some sort of party, which was even more shocking to you. Ever since his emigration from Russia, he had been snatched up as a primary ally of none other than HYDRA. But, as of late, word on the street was that he was looking for a new buyer. It was clear that him and HYDRA had some sort of falling out, which is why you were baffled by the fact that the man wasn’t in hiding. After all, HYDRA didn’t have a reputation for being civil to their enemies. And if you weren’t _with_ HYDRA, you were against them.

“What’s going on?” You asked, not sure what you were watching. The doctor to your right gave you a look that told you to shut your mouth, and you did so reluctantly. A few seconds passed before the woman was standing in front of Silas himself. You gasped audibly as you watched her clamp one hand over Silas’ mouth and use the other to drag Silas by the collar, unbeknownst to his guards facing the other way. You watched, enthralled, as she lugged Silas to a small room to the side as if he didn’t weigh anything at all. In reality, this couldn’t be further from the truth— Sokolov was a solid, built man.

Not even 60 seconds passed before the woman emerged from the room, slamming the door shut as she left. Only then did you notice that she had a gleaming metal arm. The only problem was that the metal arm was _extremely_ muscular— much larger than you had seen on any other woman. And, right on the top was a bright red star.

It occurred to you that maybe it wasn’t a woman at all. The easy pull of Silas’ body, the sturdiness of his figure, and the metal arm suddenly made a lot more sense. You focused on his hand— there was something red there too. Was it another star shaped symbol? You narrowed your eyes.

Oh. _Oh._

It was blood. Silas’ blood.

“He works for HYDRA doesn’t he?” You asked, turning to face Lafayette who was carefully studying your reactions. He nodded again. “Who is he?”

“Isn’t that the million dollar question?” He asked with a chuckle. You cocked your head, not understanding what he meant. “We don’t know.” The doctor clarified. Startled, your eyebrows shot up.

“That’s new.” You quipped. Never once had you experienced the ever-great Lafayette not knowing all the details of what he was talking about.

“I wish we could say the same for him,” Lafayette sighed, bringing out a rather thin manilla folder. He opened it to reveal a few scattered news clippings and photographs. “He’s been working with HYDRA for the last quarter century. We didn’t even know he existed until about five years ago, and even then, it was a suspicion. But then, his sightings became for frequent as he started entering higher risk situations. People tend to remember men in all black with big guns.” He slides the folder towards you for you to analyze. You pick up the clearest picture, which wasn’t saying much, considering it was almost as grainy as the others. The only real difference was the position of the picture.

The photograph was a side profile of his face, concealed by the black mask you had seen earlier and a pair of reflective black goggles with a crack in one of the frames. His ensemble covered him from his neck down to his ankles, in the style of a weird vest. Only one sleeve side was missing to showcase his metal arm. He looks rather menacing, you realize, with his windswept chestnut hair and brawny shoulders.

“Okay, so what _do_ we know?” You asked, placing the picture back down, and skimming through some news headlines and other pieces of evidence.

“He exists. Caucasian male, approximately six feet, works for HYDRA.” Lafayette starts. “That’s about it.” He deadpans. You gape at the doctor in front of you.

“That’s _it_?!” You ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of your voice. He nods, affirming your words.

“He’s being called the Winter Soldier by those who believe he exists.”

“The Winter Soldier,” You repeat, as if your tongue was trying the title on for size. “Okay, why are you telling me this?”

“Why do you think, Áurea?” He implored. “He’s HYDRA’s fist. And, you should know better than anyone else how we feel about HYDRA.”

“So, what, you want me to kill him?” You offered. Lafayette laughed, as if the idea was completely absurd.

“That would imply that you could face him for longer than a second— or, or even _find_ him. No, 409, I want you to return to that party venue. It’s a crime scene now, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to _blend in_.” He says, giving you a meaningful look. “Investigate the location, report back what you can. I doubt he’s left any forensic evidence but this might be our only chance to find something new about him.”

“Have the car ready,” You finished, rising from your seat to prepare for your newly assigned task.

As you gained more power, and more time passed, they gave you more rights. Almost as if they were training a dog and the more it behaved, the more often it got to walk without a leash.

It disgusted you but in a way, you understood. They now treated you like one of them, as if you had joined them by choice. In addition, they let you out on missions more than ever, it being clear that they wanted you to be acquainted with changes that came as time progressed. History was being made before your eyes and you couldn’t simply sit there and be blind to it. You watched the Civil Rights movement progress without you alongside them to help fight for simple, human rights. You watched the public mourn the separation of the Beatles with jovial celebrations completed with flowing music and dancing.

You missed that.

DIVISION didn’t worry about you escaping. They had installed some kind of tracker technology into the back of your neck before your first mission. Not only did it let them know where you were, but it also sent out possibly paralyzing shocks of electricity when you stayed out for a little too long. It came to you as no surprise when you found out that it could kill you if you chose to run.

By the time you had reached the site, there was already a crowd of reporters present. You looked around for a policeman, smiling discreetly when you found a female officer. You allowed the golden fog to reach her body discreetly, and in response, her eyelids began to droop. Satisfied, you hid in the alleyway that led to the bathrooms, hearing one of her co-workers ask if she was okay before you left.

“Yeah,” She yawned. “Must not have drank enough coffee this morning. I’m gonna go and splash some water on my face.” She began to make her way to the side of the building where you were hiding. When she reached you, you let your powers compel her to a state of unconsciousness, her body beginning to sag against the walls. Before she could collapse, you stripped out of your clothes and switched your attire with hers. You studied the nameplate on the breast pocket when you had the uniform on.

“Officer Morrison,” You read to yourself, before looking down at the sleeping woman in front of you. You let your powers flow through your cells, until your original disguise of short blonde hair [began to change](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.giphy.com%2Fmedia%2FCfBftjpdOkf8Q%2Fgiphy.gif&t=ZTYwZjZiNjIwZGM1OGRlYjQwYWQ5N2Y5MzYzNzQ3ZWU1YWI4YzZmYixmc25YczNFdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ApCA0l4XkydLrEVNrZmLCag&p=http%3A%2F%2Fwhintersoldiers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F153746555988%2Fhomecoming-ch-ix&m=1) to coffee colored hair that reached your collarbones. Your body became shrouded in a golden light until you could pass for the woman’s twin sister. You took the clip from her hair and placed your newly brunette hair into an updo, before making your way into the building.

The day that Lafayette had told you that you could use your abilities to change your physical appearance to your liking, you hadn’t even been surprised. Even after all these years, your powers were perplexing. You didn’t know the limits of your own body.  

“Morrison? What’re you doing in here?” One of the other police officers asked when they spotted you inside the room. “I thought you were helping Anderson keep those vultures at bay.” You assumed he was referring to the reporters. You tried to think quick, but you were caught off guard. Usually when people saw one of their own, they let you slide.

You reached your hand up and let your powers take control to make him forget what had happened. Just enough for him to lose his train of thought. Instantly, the officer’s eyes became cloudy and distant. He shook his head as you lowered your hand.

“Everything okay, officer?” You asked tentatively. He nodded, but you could tell he was still vexed.

“Yeah, yeah— I just… what was I saying?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together. You smiled slightly.

“You were saying how you needed my help looking at the scene.”

“Right,” He says, shaking his head once again as he steps aside to let you into the room where Silas’ body had been found. “Get in here.” You smirked, satisfied with your work, and entered.

By the time you returned to the DIVISION lab, it was midnight. You hadn’t gotten much in terms of physical evidence except for a sample of some metal residue left on Silas’ neck. It wasn’t anything palpable such as fingerprints, but that was the only thing you could salvage.

Lafayette seemed delighted nonetheless, praising you profusely and dismissing you right away. You were thankful for the quick discharge. It was a special day.

It was Alyssa’s fifty-third birthday.

You smiled at the present you had gotten her while you were out on your mission. A new brand of camera that displayed pictures in a quality better than ever before. She could use it when she was free from DIVISION’s grasp.

She was delighted by your present, but when you revealed your proposition to her, she simply rolled her eyes. You wanted to de-age her as well. You wanted her to live to see DIVISION’s downfall— of course— but a selfish part of you wanted to hold onto the person that kept you sane through the years.

“I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I know you’ve been lightly reversing my age as well as yours. You’re not as discreet as you would like to think.” She said, while you blushed guiltily. “I wish I could look this good at fifty-three on my own, but alas…” She finished with a dramatic sigh. You cracked a smile.

“So, you’re okay with it? You want to live for a couple extra years with me? We can be senior citizens together.” You joked, hoping it would convince her.

“We’ve all got to die one day, but if you think you can do it, and it’s what you want… yes. I’m warning you now though, there’s gonna be time when I want you to stop. And when that time comes, I’m gonna need you to respect my decision to die normally.” You nodded immediately.

“Alright then, we’re gonna be the fossils of the twentieth century.” She said, huffing with surprise when you attacked her with a hug. She laughed and returned the hug. Your powers traveled through the embrace and into her body, and into her cells. When she pulled away, you grinned at her newly transformed presence. You plucked the camera from her hands, and took a quick picture before she could shy away.

The camera spit out the photo from the bottom, and after a few minutes of vigorous shaking, you presented it to her. She gasped when she saw it, reaching up to touch her own face as she examined the photograph.

“I look just like I did when I was going off to college,” She whispered, almost to herself. You smiled.

“We can tweak your age as we go. For now, I thought it would be good to return you to this age. For memories’ sake.” You smiled.

“I’m gonna be a hell of a liability,” She warned. “How are we going to explain this to the doctors?” She asked. You shrugged easily.

“We’re going to tell them the truth. If they don’t like it, they can take it up with me.” You said simply with an innocent smile on your face. “They know by now that if they lay a hand on you that they will die. Immediately.”

“Aww, look at you, my knight in shining armor.” She goaded. You rolled your eyes. “Well, I’ll have you know that I’m no damsel in distress.”

“I’m very aware of that, Alyssa. You’re stubborn as a stone. There’s no telling how you’ll find a husband with that attitude.” You taunted, knowing full well how she felt about comments such as those. She shot you an exasperated glance.

“Not that I _need_ a husband but… I’ll find someone someday— that likes my stubbornness. Chances are better than ever now that I look like this again.” She said, pointing to her face. You laughed.

“Yup, you’re a real catch. I bet the guys all lined up just to dance with you back in the day.” You teased with a pinch to her cheeks.

“That they did,” She answered honestly, batting your hand away. “But, don’t act like you’re a stranger to that treatment.” You didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough.

“How did you come to know Carter then? Hmm?” She argued. You scoffed.

“Through—” You stopped yourself as your realized. “Through Bucky.”

“Bucky? You mean Captain America’s best friend?” She asked. You whipped your head towards her.

“Who is Captain America?” You asked with a cock of your head. Her eyes almost bugged out of her head.

“How do you not know who _Captain friggin’ America_ is?!” She cried, looking like she didn’t quite believe you. You shrugged.

“Kinda skipped over the 40’s. Was a little busy getting tortured.” You clarified, with a small laugh so she didn’t take it too harshly. She still smiled apologetically.

“Well then, Y/N, it’s time for a crash course in the second World War.”

* * *

**_DIVISION Headquarters — December 2016_ **

“You know, I’ve done a lot of _shit_ without questioning you, like when you asked me age you back twenty years while you tied up your loose ends and searched for a successor. But this? This is where I draw the line.” You hiss, shaking your head and backing away from Lafayette.

Alright… so you were stretching the truth a bit. You hadn’t de-aged Lafayette as a favor— he was never your friend— you had done it because you want him to be alive when DIVISION met it’s downfall. He would be well into his nineties by now, but thanks to you, he stands sturdily in his seventies, a clipboard attached to his hand.

“I can’t kill the Winter Soldier today. He’s always one step ahead. Always. I just got back from a mission. I need… need _months_ to prepare before I can go after him. He was HYDRA’s greatest asset for Christ’s sake.”

“So… don’t you wanna know who he is?” Lafayette asks, a smirk on his face. You study Lafayette like he had grown three heads.

“You know I don’t— for any of my targets and _especially_ for him. Namelessness and anonymity is good. I told you back when HYDRA fell that I don’t care to know his identity.” More than two years ago, when all of HYDRA’s secrets had been revealed to the public, Lafayette had found out who the man beneath the mask was. You had told the doctor right away that you didn’t want to know his name. But, before you could pursue the soldier, he had gone into hiding. It seems that while you were in a remote Asian village for the past eight months, not only had he came out of hiding, but he was a regular public presence as well. At least, that’s what it seems like Lafayette was trying to tell you.

“See, you’ve been across the planet for the better part of the year, chasing our newest lead for the Malaysian mineral that we need. So, let’s catch you up.” The doctor says. You open your hands in a gesture that tells him to continue. “The problem here… is that his identity is integral to the story. And, it’s integral to your mission.”

“Why?” You inquire.

“Because,” He says, leering at your aggravated expression ominously. “Our elusive Winter Soldier is the one and only James Buchanan Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there wasn’t much interaction between Bucky and Y/N (aka you, lol) but this is a plot oriented chapter. We definitely needed this in order for everything in the future to make sense. Shoutout to THIS webpage for help with the murder research, and that awesome quote about thunderbolts is actually by Sun Tzu. 
> 
> Also, PLEASE let me know if there’s anything confusing that you want me to clear up! It’s hard cramming 70 years of events into one chapter, so there might’ve been some stuff I looked over, lol. Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

**_DIVISION Headquarters — December 2016_ **

_“Because,” Lafayette said, leering at your aggravated expression ominously. “Our elusive Winter Soldier is the one and only James Buchanan Barnes.”_

“That’s not funny.” You hiss after a lifetime of silence. You feel all feeling leave your fingertips, and your hands turn numb and lifeless.

“That’s because it isn’t a joke,” He says simply, grinning now that the cat is out of the bag. “How’s that for a surprise?”

“No— no, you’re _lying._ You have to be.” You mutter the last part to yourself, shaking your head at the ground as you consider the possibility that he could be telling the truth. “It’s not possible.”

“You know what else isn’t possible? For you to heal others… for you to _kill_ others without ever laying a finger on them. For you to look like you do and survive from 1943 to 2016.” He retorts, raising his eyebrows smugly. “But, yet here you are.”

“That doesn’t mean the man we’ve been chasing all these years is James,” You insist, fighting to make sure your voice stays even. “There— it’s… he died in battle. End of story.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a good plot twist?” He asks. You level a withering look in his direction. “Speaking of plot twists, let’s get back to the story at hand, shall we?” You are rendered so speechless, your words so inadequate for the situation, that all you can do is nod.

He re-traces the entire story of the conflict between Captain Rogers, Iron Man, and Bucky that had occurred earlier in June. He goes on to explain how at the end of it all, Iron Man had offered to house Bucky at the tower as a sign of peace to the Captain.

You had ran into Steve as Captain America with the backup of his fellow Avengers a few times before, during some of your missions. Phantom cases of perfectly healthy people falling dead, or becoming severely sick had gained their attention. So far, you had managed to slip away unnoticed, but you don’t know how much longer that would be possible, especially considering the increasingly frequent additions of enhanced people to the Avengers.

You admire what they do. You try to stay out of their way, for the most part, unless your operations dictate otherwise.

“Even if I believe you— and I _don’t_ — what makes you think I’d go after him now that you’ve told me that he’s surrounded by a literal army of people like me? Especially Steve?” You inquire, barking out a laugh. Steve was always one to give his all when fighting for a cause, but if it was for Bucky, you know for a fact that he would take no prisoners.

“You underestimate yourself severely,” He says with a small smile. “You can do this.”

“What makes you think that I would _want_ to do it?” You bark, whipping towards him with glowering eyes. “Why would I want to kill Bucky Barnes?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to kill Bucky Barnes?”

“Excuse me?” You balk. _What kind of question was that?_

“What?” He asks condescendingly, with a single eyebrow raised challengingly. “You're really going to tell me you want Bucky Barnes to live a healthy and happy life? Get a white picket fence and a big, shaggy dog?” You stare at him, mouth open, and a perplexed expression on your features. “Be realistic.”

“I—” Your mouth goes dry. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“Yes you do,” He says, giving you an exasperated glance. Both you and him know full and well that you don’t have a choice in the matter, but the results of your quests were always better when your heart was in it. That’s why Lafayette tries his hardest to convince you of every cause you would be fighting towards. “Heartbreak never truly heals. Not without closure. This is your chance to sew that wound shut.” Your eyes almost bulge out of your head at this words— how the hell does he know that you had harbored feelings for Bucky in the past?

“I’m not sure that’s exactly a healthy coping mechanism.” You try for a joke, not quite believing what is coming out of the doctor’s mouth, and hoping your easy tone will deflect the heaviness of the conversation. He smiles as he realizes he had gotten you to admit to your residual emotions. You wince internally. “And, I’m not heartbroken. If I was— even hypothetically— that wouldn’t mean that I would want to kill him, _jesus.”_

“That’s because you’re still making excuses for him.” Lafayette explains with a sigh, like he is tired of explaining. “What he did wasn’t right. Your anxiety was in a delicate place, 409. It was no time for jokes or the things he said. Tell me, did it feel good hating yourself? Having your self-worth be ripped to shreds by a man who took advantage of your kindness to entertain himself?”

“Stop,” You whisper, your lungs burning. You clench your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to force the tears back down. But, he doesn’t let up.

“He used you. No matter the things I’ve done to you, I’ve always been clear about my intentions. He led you down a false path, let you fall in love with him— for what? Because he was bored? Because he got a good scolding from his surrogate father, Steve?”

“I said _stop_!” You growl, your eyes flashing gold as you jerk your head towards him. Your voice holds a knife’s edge to it, and the doctor’s eyes flicker to the dark, almost blackened golden mist at your fingertips. He finally accedes to your wishes as he realizes the threat behind your offensive position. “How do you know all of this?”

“A scientist always makes sure to research his variables before he inserts them into his trials. The research becomes particularly easy when the variables don’t make an effort to privatize their conflicts.” He says, spreading his hands as he sets the clipboard down. Your eyes fall to the floor as you realize there is merit to his words— after all, most of the discord between you and Bucky had occurred in public. There were bound to be wandering eyes and ears.

“I don’t care what he did. It happened more than 60 years ago. I’m not gonna chase some decades old vendetta out of spite and risk getting myself killed.”

“You’re not understanding,” He says, his voice beginning to become annoyed. “This is our only chance to get to him. Now that he lives with the Avengers, he’s under constant vigilance and company. But, every Sunday he goes on a walk with Steve Rogers to a secluded park a few miles from the tower. For the past couple of months, we’ve had some of our agents tailing them, and today is the first day the Captain is allowing is allowing Bucky to go on a walk on his own. He’s going to be isolated, unsuspecting, and _this_ is when you strike.”

“I don’t want to kill him! Don’t you get it?!” You all but scream, your voice coming out strained.

“Even after everything he did to you?”

“Even after everything he did to me,” You admit. “He might’ve hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die just because you say so. What’s done is done.” There is truth to your words, but you know there's truth to Lafayette's too. 

“You sure about that?” Lafayette asks. “Who is gonna take the responsibility for killing innocent people all over the world, hmm? He’s a ruthless murderer, someone that’s left behind a carcass of humanity in his years. That’s the person you want to spare?” 

“What?” You look at him, confusion overtaking your features. “He— He wouldn’t do that. The Winter Soldier isn’t a part of him.”

“Do you really believe that?” He asks, cocking his head at you. He knows for a fact that you have no proof of Bucky’s innocence. A couple of lies about Bucky’s immorality paired with a confident tone and you would be ready to follow his command.

His question causes you to draw back like you've been burned. For the entirety of this argument, you had assumed HYDRA had taken Bucky by force. That he had been helpless to their influence.

“Yes, I do,” You say, although your voice wavers unconfidently. “I knew Bucky. That might be his body but it’s not his mind. No matter what he did to me, he’s not… that.”

“You’d be surprised by how much war can change a person,” Lafayette says, eyes closing in what looks like defeat. “I didn’t wanna show you this, but you’ve left me no other choice.” He brings out a thick folder, almost entirely overflowing with documents inside it. He indicates for you to open it.

The first picture that greets you is the body of a young girl, her hair plaited neatly and her lips parted peacefully. There are bruises that at first you assume were ligature marks, but later realize are finger shaped. You suck in a quick breath, and pull the photograph away to look at the next picture. It is a man with a single bullet hole through his forehead. You read the report at the bottom, which reveales that the little girl and the man had the same last name.

“Oh,” You mutter, unable to stop a hot, angry tear from escaping your eye.

Lafayette knows he has you now.

“Does that look like the work of someone who has been forced to kill?” He asks with a cock of his head. You feel an unbidden tear make it’s way down your face, your expression contorting angrily. “There’s many more, much more violent, cases in there if you would like to see. He was never who you thought he was, and I know you want to think differently, but killing him is the only thing left for you to do. If HYDRA finds a way to rise again, there’s no telling what he may do. He’s dangerous and—”

“Enough.” You consent, eyes downcast and emotionless as you finally accept his words. “I’ll do it.”

* * *

[✗](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D-8CbI1iG4To&t=MzQ3NzQwYTY2MzNiNDE1YWRlZmNmMDBkNjcyZWI1NWU1MDUwMzRiMixwOUtibHZHMg%3D%3D&b=t%3ApCA0l4XkydLrEVNrZmLCag&p=http%3A%2F%2Fwhintersoldiers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F154346930066%2Fhomecoming-ch-x&m=1)

You almost don't recognize him.

You're surveying the citizens from a safe perch on the rooftop of a tall building, watching the people of the city scamper as they try to find refuge from the rain. The downpour makes the sky overcast with ominous billows of charred ash. The sun shies away, only sanctioning the slightest bit of luminescence despite the relatively early hour of the afternoon. It is as if the universe knows that something monumental is going to take place, and is doing it’s best to prepare the stars. 

Among the hoards of jogging people, raincoats, and umbrellas is a man. He occupies a presence, for sure, with a soldier-like march to his steps and broad shouldered demeanor that would’ve cleared his path of fearful people had he not the hesitancy of a child discovering something new.

His hands are fisted in his pockets, and he walkes leisurely— _tentatively_ — with a dark baseball cap fitted just right over his eyes. Tufts of rain-soaked sepia strands escape the confines of the hat, kissing the curve of jaw and the slope of his neck.

He wears layers— too many and certainly not right for this kind of weather. You curl your lip as you watch him walk, swinging your outfit’s hood over your head as you re-trace your stratagem in your mind.

You begin to shadow him, a good distance between the two of your bodies, waiting for the street to clear further. As you walk, you let your features change into someone else’s— altering the shape of your face, the fullness of your lips, the length and color of your hair, and then your skin tone. You decide to keep the advantage of your defined muscles in case the situation escalates to something out of your control.

You keep at it for another 15 minutes or so, your footsteps light and easy at first. He doesn't notice until you change the pace and heaviness of your steps on the seventeenth minute, his ear perking up but his steps not faltering as he listens to you follow him. You tread with big, lumbering steps for a little while longer just so it is clear he's being tailed. Finally, he reaches a crosswalk and without waiting for the street to clear of cars, he runs across the intersection. He finally turns around to look at you when he has reached the other end of the crosswalk.

You give a small, augural smile as you wait for a string of cars to pass. You use this opportunity to disappear into the side of the building who had chosen for this occasion specifically. It is an old, dilapidated thing that had been abandoned halfway through construction quite some time ago. You know for a fact that he would chase you, and as you start sprinting to the roof of the building using the inner stairs, you hear the quick, hurtling footsteps of Bucky’s figure pursuing your quickly fleeting figure.

You reach the roof before he does, and you use your advantage to take a position behind a rather tall protruding heat pump. You hear his footfalls come to an abrupt stop once he reaches the roof.

He isn’t even out of breath.

“Who are you?” He demands frantically. “Show yourself!”

Your body responds to his voice instantly. You are up from your hidden position and approaching him before you can even realize it. It throws you for a loop because on one hand, he sounds like him. _Your_ James. The tone harbors that familiar gravelly, low-timbered, croon but… it also sounds like someone entirely different. Someone with a timbre that is authoritative, grating, and _bone-shaking._

“Hello, Bucky,” You greet, your voice coming out like the woman you had changed yourself to appear as. “How was your walk?”

You get your first good look at him.

He looks tired— his unkempt five o’clock shadow and long hair bringing unnecessary depth to his face. He radiates an air of menace with his locked jaw and defensive stance. And, despite all of it, you can see the old Bucky. Narrowed eyes of melted steel, and soft lips with droplets of rain bringing attention to his cupid’s bow. Your lower lip almost trembles before you catch yourself because _damn it,_ Bucky Barnes is alive and breathing in front of you. And, in less than an hour, he would be dead.

“Fantastic until a mysterious woman started following me,” He supplies, crossing his arms. Somehow he manages to look even more assertive, the action bringing definition to his upper body and his grim expression making you straighten your posture in anticipation. “What do you want?”

The top of your scalp prickles and you stare at him challengingly.

_Now or never._

“Just wanted to get a good look at the infamous Winter Soldier for myself,” You drawl, taking slow, leisurely steps around him. Despite the obvious difference in your physicalities, Bucky seems apprehensive. He makes no sudden movements as you circle him. “Thought you’d be a bit more _scary_ though.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” He provides simply. You smirk.

“Is that right?” You inquire, watching him turn repeatedly to look at you, like a dog chasing it’s own tail. “Is it because you decided humanity has had enough or because you don’t have HYDRA to hide behind anymore?”

“I— I don’t know what you’re…”

“Cut the bullshit,” You spit the words at him. His eyes widen. “You’ve murdered hundreds of people in the last seventy years and you think that your past isn’t going to chase you to this… this, _chrysalis_ of a life you’ve adapted to? Well, tough luck soldier. It’s time to open up those pretty baby-blues and take a good look.”

With that, you thrust out your hand towards Bucky. The golden wisps of air materialize instantaneously, sending his body flying to the edge of the roof. His limbs make a loud striking noise against the metal railing of the roof, before he collapses against the cement floor.

“See, Bucky, I’ve got these powers…” You begin, slowly approaching his waiting figure. He clamberes up against the edge, clearly terrified by your stance. “I can do lotsa things with ‘em. But, simply put, I can control your body in any damn way I want.”

“Who are you?” He repeats breathlessly, hands clawing at the concrete underneath him.

“Who do I look like to you?” You question condescendingly.

“Azrael might be a bit of an understatement” He mutters. You chuckle darkly.

“The Angel of Death?” You laugh mirthlessly, the sound rough and unfriendly. “Close. My name is Audivina Aurea.”

“ _Audivina Aurea?_ ”

“Golden Diviner works just fine.” You shrug. “Enough chit-chat.”

With a jerk of your wrist, his body is pulled to the other end of the roof, as if an invisible string tied around his body is dragging him to the walls at the center of the roof. His head crashes against the bricks, and his body sags forward from the residual momentum.

You stride towards him with purpose, using your abilities to render his body immobile. Admittedly, it is taking quite a bit more effort on your part to control his body. He must have some sort of enrichment in his body that made his cells more durable. But, it isn't anything you can’t handle. Thus, you slowly begin to apply pressure to his windpipe using the witchcraft radiating from your hand.

“You know, I’ve gotta say, I’m a tiny bit offended that you don’t recognize me,” You confess, walking slowly toward him. He starts suckig in deeper breaths, trying to get air into his lungs. “Thought our history would strike some sort of familiarity,”

“I— I don’t… _Christ,_ I don’t know a— a golden diviner!” He chokes out, chest heaving from the effort as you kept the tension on his throat. You cock your head.

“Oh, James, I’m disappointed.” You purr, the corner of your lips lifting in satisfaction when his eyes flicker with cognition. But, he shakes his head lightly, gaze dropping to the floor in contemplation. You advance further, into his personal space. The damp air enhances the smell of him— something dark and clean— and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

Then, all at once, he has his arm thrust out towards you and around your neck, pushing you down, clamping your body flat against the ground. You are so surprised with the action that he has the chance to grab both of your wrists with his other hand, and secure your hands above your head. His grip on both your neck and wrists are bruising but you're too occupied with the way he has blanketed himself over you in order to keep your legs from shooting out.

You groan internally.

_The metal arm._

Of _course_ you won’t be able to control the cybernetic arm with your powers, and you inwardly reprimand yourself for being so careless and sloppy. It is a hell of an oversight. He's still panting— his heart rate galloping from the oxygen deprivation. From your viewpoint, you can count each new line on his face, and those old stipples of grey in the blues of his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m _not_ gonna ask again!” He barkes, the sound vibrating in your ears. “What do you want?”

His fingers are twisted in the palms of your hands, you realize. The callouses tickle your palms and you have to swallow to focus. You reach down with your own fingers, tangling yours in his. His eyes shoot further open in bewilderment, and you take that opportunity to twine his body between your legs and propel your body with all your strength so you sat straddling his sinewy thighs.

You send a fissure of strain to his heart, and his mouth opens in a silent cry. His body goes rigid, silver arm and all.

_Pretty metal arm not so impressive anymore, huh?_

“Wh—” He groanes, torso jackhammering up off the concrete as the pain in his chest worsens. He eyes the hand that you had thrust out in front of him. “Where did you… get that?” You're taken aback by the question, looking at your hand to interpret the meaning of his words.

_Oh._

The ring.

You purse your lips. You ponder the possibility of telling him the truth. Would he believe you? You let up on the burden on his heart, and he gaspes again as the pain subsides altogether.

“This old thing?” You ask, pointing at the ring he had given you before he had left for war. “Got it from… not a lover. Not exactly a friend. An… almost something.” You decide. You don’t have to use your powers anymore. He won’t be moving away anytime soon.

“I know you’re going to kill me, but before you do, I need you to tell me the truth,” He begs, almost hysterically. “Who gave you that ring?”

You sigh, in a way that sounds suspiciously like defeat.  

The golden light begins to wash over you, until your rightful visage is restored. Each eyelash down to each smattering of melanin. Bucky’s mouth gapes open further with each change as you finally look like yourself again. 

“You,” You profess. “You’re the one who gave it to me, James.”

He looks like he's at a loss of words, hands coming out to reach toward you. As if he needs physical proof of your existence, despite the weight of you on his lower body. You have been divested of his touch for so long, that one graze of his fingertips makes you expel a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. For a moment, nothing but the promise of his touch matters. You lean into the caress, the scratch of his rough fingertips on the smooth skin of your cheek creating a delicious friction in spite of the rain. Your eyelids drift shut and your skin palpitates with energy.

Then, his cybernetic limb comes to a stop on your face as well. Your eyes break open, the feeling of the cold metal burning into your cool skin. Bucky draws the hand back, mistaking your surprise for disgust.

He is wrong.

Because, while you are disgusted, it isn't because of the arm. You're disgusted with yourself.

He's a _murderer_ , and a person that had done _so_ much wrong by you, and here you are. Melting into his touch. You shake your head vigorously, his hand falling away from your face. Your eyes fill with a tumultuous gold and you growl.

“Get your hands off of me,” You snarl, using your own hands rather than your powers to clasp at his neck. “You don’t have the right to touch me like that anymore.” His hands fly to your own to stop you, but even his pulverizing grip on your wrists don't make you relent.

“I— Y/N…!” He manages to plead.

“You’re a killer, Bucky Barnes.” You elaborate, leaning in close so his last sight before he died would be you. Furious and almost rabid. “It’s time to pay up.”

 _“Please,”_ He urges. His face begins to turn red, eyes rolling back into his head.

“No!” You bellow. You press further. “You’re never going to hurt anyone again, you hear me?!”

All of a sudden, you're knocked to the ground by a weighty, almost flaming object that feels strangely circular. It cuts through the air spectacularly, hitting your head spot-on. You hear one final sentence from someone that isn’t Bucky, before everything fades to black:

“Neither are you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: OMG WHAT DO Y’ALL THINK?! I hope it was clear that you aka Y/N does not know that Bucky was a victim of HYDRA. As far as she knows, he was just killing of his own free will. Let me know if there was anything confusing! Lots of love <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is in the present now, so no more need for dates! :)

**_Avengers Tower_ **

You wake to a jolt of electricity surging through your tendons. Your body tremors with the force of the current, your eyes shooting open at the unpleasant sensation.

The first of your senses to return is your hearing.

“…and, besides, _this_ is why I was so reluctant to let you out by yourself!” You hear a voice berate.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before, punk.” You hear someone else reply. You are unable to suppress a groan as the voltages of electricity worsen before subsiding. You hear a sharp intake of breath. “Steve… she’s awake.”

As your vision clears, you notice two people looming over your curled position on the floor. The other thing you realize is that, not only we’re they looking down at you, but that they were looking down at you from the outside. Because, you were on the other side of a number of erect metal bars that encased you into a chamber.

They had caged you in. Like an animal.

The first person you recognize is Bucky, who looks quite different from the last time you had seen him. On this occasion, he is missing the restricting baseball cap, hair fluffed like it had been freshly washed and dried, and wearing a soft cream colored henley.

And, to his left, is Steve. Despite the darkness of the situation, you almost smile. Tiny little Steve, now towering at what had to be six feet, bulging torso muscles giving way to a tapered waist. His blond hair stands stylishly straight. Although you had seen him before, this is your first good glimpse at him since 1943. You notice that his signature facial expression is as habitual as ever— grim, contemplative, and almost like he was shaking his head in disappointment at you.

“Boys…” You croak out, going for casual but the sound hoarse and dried out from neglect.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?”

“Why were you after Bucky, Y/N?”

The two questions come to you at once, and you’re taken aback both by the difference in tone and subject for each question. You crack a wry smile. You heave as you try to sit up, until you realize that your wrists are bound together. You make a sound of discontentment in the back of your throat as you wiggle your wrists, trying to slip the out of the restrictions. They accommodate movement, the material stretchy like nylon, but did not give way when you tried to release your wrists from the confinements.

“What’s this?” You demand, ignoring their previous questions, and indicating to the stretchy black restraints.

“Consider it a safeguard,” Steve retorts, while Bucky’s gaze stays trained onto you. It’s hard to ignore Bucky’s piercing argent gaze, softened into pools of concern at your huddled figure, so you force yourself to stare at Steve. You try another fruitless attempt at liberating your wrists, the results turning out about as successful as you would have expected them to be.

 _Fine._ You think to yourself. _You wanna play hardball? I can play hardball._

You flick your wrists out together in Steve’s direction, waiting for your magical gilded haze to reach him so you can force him to free you. To your surprise, it doesn’t appear. Steve gives a low shake of his head, turning to Bucky expectantly, while you begin to panic. You fling your trussed hands in all directions frantically, praying for your powers to appear.

“What have you done to me?!” You cry, eyes wide and disbelieving. You shake your head in bewilderment, eyebrows worrying together and breaths coming in shallow. No matter how you had acquired them, those powers were _yours_ and an undeniable part of you. The thought of the two men doing something to your body— like Lafayette had done— to make you mortal and temporal again made bile rise in your throat.

“Like I said,” Steve replies firmly and evenly, almost like he was trying to placate you from your state of distress. His gaze drops to the black, manacle-like bounds. “Just a safeguard.” You calm slightly as you realize that your powers weren’t gone: just temporarily suppressed by the restrictions.

“What do you want?” You finally inquire, after taking a moment to compose yourself. “Let me go.”

“Let you go?” Steve asks, barking out a humorless laugh in disbelief. “You tried to murder Bucky not even 48 hours ago!” Your uninterested gaze changes and flickers up to Steve instantly.

“48 hours?” You ask. “How long have I been here?” Steve sighs exasperatedly, clearly tired of you avoiding the matter at hand. He doesn’t look like he’s going to answer, but luckily, Bucky pipes up.

“A little over a day and a half,” Bucky says, praying you’ll actually look at him. “The shield can do… quite a bit o’damage to your noggin’ when he wants it to.”

“I’ve been here for two days?!” You practically screech, eyes alight in a wild frenzy. “You need to let me go. _Now._ ” The electronic device designed to send shockwaves through your body would be getting increasingly more powerful and frequent, the longer you stayed away from DIVISION’s headquarters. Lafayette didn’t like loose ends. And, now that Steve had placed a deterrent on your powers, you couldn’t even dilute the pain by healing yourself. You had three to five days, at _best_ , before the fatal shocks would come.

“Not until you answer my question,” Steve counters, unfazed by your panic. “Why did you come after Bucky?” You take a moment to think.

_Why did I come after Bucky?_

“He’s hounded after his abundance of people in his time. I’m only returning the favor.” You finally decide, turning to face Bucky coldly as the words leave his mouth. You’ve got no time to explain the entire history of DIVISION. And, besides, neither of them wouldn’t believe you. After all, you had chased Bucky of your own will. Steve looks like he’s about to argue, opening his mouth, but then deciding to keep his comment to himself in the end.

Bucky just looks… sad. And guilty.

It’s a rather strange look on him, because he’s a herculean, _colossus,_ of a man now. Eyes melancholy and downcast, body dropping in what looked like defeat. It rubs at you the wrong way: his crestfallen expression and fatigued disposition.

Killers aren’t supposed feel remorse.

“Where did you get your powers?” Steve asks, changing the subject. You contemplate an answer, but before you can reply, another current passes through you, from the base of your neck down to your abdomen. It hits and ends with a jolt right at your core, a tight hiss escaping through your clenched teeth.

Your body jerks with the power of the shockwave, and you curl in on yourself as you bite down on the urge to throw up, despite not remembering eating for the last couple of days. Your chest heaves, and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing the bitter taste of burnt electricity away from your tongue.

“Y/N?” Steve asks cautiously, his voice newly soft. “You alright?” You cough, and smack your tongue against the roof your mouth a few times to displace the tang, before nodding.

“M’fine,” You croak out, blinking away the dancing blurs in your vision. “Just get on with it so I can leave.”

“You sure?” Steve asks skeptically. “You didn’t look too good there, just then.”

“I’m _fine_.” You repeat, but your voice is drowsy. “Or… I will be. I think.”

“Alright,” Steve finally accepts, tough exterior returning. “Your powers. How?”

“Not entirely sure,” You answer truthfully. “Lab experiments. Vials. The works.”

“And, you did this to yourself?”

“Not exactly,” You chuckle, the sound rueful, and almost quiet. _If he only knew_ , you think, blinking slowly.

“Right, well,” Steve finally steps back. “You’re obviously not going to talk right now. I’ll be back, because you’re not going anywhere until I get some straight answers. ‘Till then… get some sleep.”

You want to point out that you’ve slept for 36 hours, but settle for a simple nod of acceptance. They begin to walk away, but before their bodies disappear through the steel doors, you watch Bucky’s shoulders turn to spare you one final glance. You can’t read his expression, not really, but it’s familiar.

He smiles, small but sanguine, one side of his mouth lifting with something absurd like _hope_ , before he turns back and disappears through the exit. It looks a little too much like the look he’d given you before he’d departed for war all those years ago.

Your chest aches, but your heart beats just a little bit faster.

* * *

You wake to a light tap against the iron bars of your room. You blink away the sleep as you sit up, yawning lightly. The person who had awoken you smiles lightly. Her russet hair frames her face prettily, lips pursed but expression curious. You watch her set something down and slide it through an opening at the bottom of the bars.

“Thought you could use something to drink,” She says slowly as if she’d scare you away with any sudden movements. “I’m Natasha.”

“I know who you are,” You reply quickly, watching the water in the glass sway as it settles. The straw in it stirs gently. “The Black Widow.”

“That’s right,” She agrees, giving you a non-judgemental once over. “You’re the Golden Diviner. I’ve heard about you too. I mean, you didn’t have a name— not until now. But, there were tales.”

“Of?”

“A kick-ass lady going around healing the sick when she’s not busy being connected to cases of ‘random’ strokes and heart attacks. People talk, you know. They say your birth was the second coming. Branding you the new messiah.”

“Likening me to the Good Shepherd? Flattering, but inaccurate.” You snort. “I’m not a savior.”

“And, yet, James thinks you can be saved.” She says, smiling when she notices your interested gaze flitter up to her at the mention of his name. You suffocate the urge to balk when she uses his first name, the word slipping off her tongue easily, like she’d done it a million times before.

“What do _you_ think?” You inquire, reaching over to grasp the cup in your hands, and although it’s a bit of a task with your confined hands, you manage rather well. The straw makes your job a lot more practical and you make a mental note to thank the woman in front of you.

“Jury is still out,” She responds airily. “I think making premature conjectures are infantile and generally counterproductive. Rest of the people in the building seem to disagree.” So, Steve and Bucky _had_ brought you to the Avengers compound. 

 _Fantastic._ Now the entirety of the Avengers hate you too. 

You nod and swallow a gulp of water. “Thank you.”  

“For what? The water?”

“That too,” You answer with the first genuine smile you’ve delivered in God knows how long. “But, also for being honest. Blunt, even. Helps me get a grip on reality.”

“Straying further and further from sanity these days are you, Y/N?” She teases with a grin. You mirror her expression, unable to stop a giggle from bubbling up from your chest. The statement couldn’t be further from the truth.

“I wish,” You said, shaking your head. “Everything is a little _too_ real for me right now.”

“How so?”

“Hard to explain,” You shrug. “Look, you don’t have to play the good cop. You can go and tell Steve that he doesn’t have to force anything out of me. He wants answers, I’ve got ‘em in spades. But he needs to get them himself, and when he’s ready, tell him to bring a chair.”

“I’m not playing the good cop,” She denies swiftly, taking a wide legged stance. “As a matter of fact, he specifically forbade everyone in the tower from even visiting this floor. But, Steve goes to bed early, and it’s easy to sneak past his room.”

“Why are you here then?” You ask, puzzled by her words.

“I’ve no care for ambiguity.” She answers mysteriously. “James and Steve refer to you in every conversation they have of the forties. They speak of a woman… with ambition. Someone kind. Someone— someone eloquent, and _touching._ I’m missing something, because you’ve changed. And, while that’s natural, this kind of change is brought on by an outside variable. Why else would you come after someone you love?”

“Loved,” You correct meekly, and she sends a withering look in your direction.

“ _Love,_ ” She reiterates. “That’s another thing. I might not know what kind of love exactly, but you do still love him, and yet… you almost killed him. I don’t know why, and I don’t like feeling stumped, Y/N.”

“Like I told Steve, he’s a killer.” You choke out, looking away from her inquisitive glare.

“See, maybe I would believe that if you could,” She snips quickly, not missing a beat. “You seem like you’re trying awfully hard to convince yourself of something that isn’t even true.”

“What?” Your line of sight snaps back to her. “You gonna stand there and tell me the Winter Soldier didn’t do a number on humanity for the last 70 years?” You counter.

“I never said that,” She says, her confused expression beginning to dissipate. She smiles sadly, eyes slipping shut in sorrow. She looks like she’s just had some grand epiphany. “Oh, Y/N… You don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” You demand. She sighs deeply.

“My heart breaks for you, Golden Diviner.” She announces.

“What are you talking about?” You cry, frustrated by her cryptic aura. She shakes her head.

“Not my story to tell, Y/N.” She declares, beginning to step back. “What I _am_ gonna tell you is that you can blame the Winter Soldier all you want, but I— or anyone else in this tower, and _especially_ Steve— won’t let you punish James for it. Not when he’s been recovering so well.” Her voice is fiercely protective, and suddenly, there’s an unpleasant buzzing at your core. You’re doubting yourself again, the nagging voice at the back of your mind apparent. Why would the Avengers, a group of people devoted to the safety and wellbeing of others, defend Bucky if…

“Wait!” You call to Natasha, her figure almost entirely immersed in the shadows. She pauses at the exit.

“I don’t doubt James will throw caution to the wind to come see you alone,” She concludes. “And, when he does, you need to hear him out.” Before you can say more, Natasha is gone, the only proof of her visit apparent in the cup at the bottom of the room floor.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily this time.

* * *

You’re lying awake and cognizant in the bed they’d provided you with when your next visitor arrives. You’re thinking about how far they had gone with their hospitality. The room where you have been trapped is rather large, with a few essential furnishings, and an entirely separate bathroom. The bed is fluffy and accommodates your body, because when you sit, you just about sink into the mattress. In fact, the only similarity it has to a jail are the metal bars encasing you into the room. You’ve never been to prison, but you’re sure it’s nothing like this.

You briefly wonder if your current living situation is consistent for every prisoner that has the privilege of visiting the tower.

“Y/N…?” The voice calls. It’s familiar.

It’s Bucky.

Natasha had been right after all, and even though she’d forewarned you, it’s all too much. Suddenly you can’t breathe because you haven’t been alone in a room with him since 1943, and you’re _nervous_ , of all things. You stand up, swaying on the balls of your feet in anticipation.

“If Steve hadn’t stopped you,” He starts, approaching your chamber. “Would you have killed me?” You’re surprised by the sudden question, watching him fret skittishly.

“Wouldn’t really have had a choice in the matter,” You mutter to yourself, the sound barely there. You’re surprised when you watch his eyebrows worry together in confusion, clearly having heard your response.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” You refute instantly, clearing your throat before answering his initial question. “I don’t know. Probably. _Yes._ ”

“So… what? I mean nothing to you, is that it?” He probes. You frown stubbornly, taking a little too much time to answer.

“That’s right.”

“You’re lying,” He challenges. “FRIDAY?” Bucky calls out, the question directed at nobody in particular. You look at him strangely. “Open Holding #17 please.” You wonder who he is talking to when a feminine voice materializes from the air, making you jump.

“Sergeant Barnes, I would strongly advise against recalibrating the safety protocols set by Captain Rogers.”

“ _Open,_ FRIDAY.”

“As you wish, sir.”

To you mild horror, the metal doors unlock and disappear into the walls they had seemingly emerged from. And now, Bucky is in front of you, unrestricted and utterly unfazed. You stare at him, aghast, not quite understanding his motives.

“Wh— What the hell are you doing?” You demand, watching him step closer until he was inside. The cell doors remained open, and you almost yelp when he speaks again.

“You’re _lying,_ ” He enunciates. “You really wanna show me you’re tellin’ the truth? Door’s open, Y/N. This is your chance to escape.” Your breath spasms, and blood roars to your ears.

“I’m— I,” You stutter, unable to formulate the right words. “I’m not gonna run.”

“Why?” He asks smugly, and you hear the provocation in his words. “Because you lied t’me?”

“Because i’m not _stupid_ , for Christ’s sake.” You snap. “There’s a million cameras, and security measures. I wouldn’t make it three blocks before I was caught.” Bucky breathes through his nose, the sound clearly demonstrating his exasperation. He strides towards you, ripping off the wristlets on your hand with one fell swoop. You gawk at him, spluttering for words, eyes wide.

The energy in your hands jump start to life, and you can feel the your powers glissade through each capillary in your body. Your posture sags in relief, feeling like you can breathe again.

“How about now?” Bucky interrupts, halting your euphoric moment. “You have your powers back. You’re free to bolt.”

“This… this doesn’t mean anything,” You defend yourself, rolling your wrists. “You’d stop me. Steve would stop me. There’s an entire tower full of people equipped to handle me.” He narrows his eyes, making a sound like he was baring his teeth. He grasps the palm of your hand, and presses it flat and firm against his heart. You blink, mouth going dry.

You can feel the warmth of his blood through the cotton of shirt, through his skin. His heart beats, strong and proud, thumping against the creases of your palm. The pulse in his thumb, fitted just right against the skin of your knuckles, hammers in tandem with his heart.

“You wanna kill me? You go right on ahead.” You swallow, ears pounding and a red-alarm blaring inside your head. Your blood thickens, slows in it’s path through your arteries, as if in preparation for something monumental. His chest rises and falls slowly, taking your hand with each undulating motion. “ _La Audivina Aurea_ , remember? You wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

“Stop,” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. His grip loosens instantly, but his hand doesn’t leave yours. You try to come off as angry, show him that you’re infuriated, but the resentment turns soft and wet and _helpless._ Your glossy eyes and trembling hands give you away. “Like you’re always so goddamn _honest_.” It’s his turn to look surprised, eyebrows rising almost comically at the accusation.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you even the Winter Soldier?” You demand. “Or is there another murderous metal-armed guy going around blowing people’s heads off? Because it’s pretty clear by now, with how much Steve and everybody else in the tower cares for you, that _you_ didn’t do it.”

“There’s no other Winter Soldier,” He finally reveals after taking a full minute to gather his bearings.

“Then, what the hell is the truth?!” You cry. “Weren’t you just spewing all the virtues of being honest? Go ahead, then.” He opens and closes his mouth, that same bashful puppy look returning to his face.

You open your mouth to respond, to yell at the gigantic asshole that he almost let you _kill_ him for something he probably didn’t even do, and that it’s been eating away at you but an unexpected voltage of electricity runs through your spine. It rolls all the way to the floor of your pelvis, making you lurch violently before you fall forward into Bucky’s arms. The shocks have been frequenting each hour on the dot, a tell-tale sign that Lafayette’s getting restless back at headquarters, but this is the strongest of them yet.

A thrumming buzz commences at your ears, the sonance reverberating all throughout the room, blocking out every sound except for the sudden, worried outcall of your name from Bucky. He clutches your limp body flush against his chest, shaking you lightly, and trying to get you to look at him. Your head feels too heavy for you body, you bones all liquid. Your eyelids flutter shut, gravity failing you as your head collapses against Bucky’s neck.

You breathe in his scent faintly before you lose consciousness.

* * *

You wake to a woman adjusting some appliance that’s been strapped to you using a number of clear wires. Bright lights invade the room, the white of the room almost scalding against your newly opened eyes. You swallow, and try to sit up, realizing that there’s many more tubes connected to your body than you had previously observed. A cold sweat blooms at your back, as you take in the charts, syringes, and other medical gadgets around you. Your breaths come in shallow, and you start shaking wildly, trying to rip the tubes off of your body.

“Lafayette!” You screech, voice cracking as you thrash around in your hysteria. You don’t see him but you _know_ he’s here somewhere. “You told me we were done with the tests! _Let me go_!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” You hear a voice rush to you, that isn’t Dr. Lafayette at all. Two hands, contrasting in temperature, land softly onto your face and make you turn. You stop squirming and face the direction of the voice. “You’re alright, I promise. No one’s hurtin’ you.”

It’s Bucky, you realize, as you look around the room. He’s kneeling on the floor next to the bed, concerned eyes staring devotedly up at you. The woman at the machine turns to you, genuine worry evident on her face. Steve’s here as well, and he’s staring down at you in surprise.

“Bucky?” You breathe out, a hand reaching up to grab at his hand, as if you don’t believe him. You’re confused. A minute ago, you could have sworn you were back in Lafayette’s clutches.

“M’right here, Y/N,” He croons soothingly, after exchanging a look with Steve. “You’re at the tower. This is Dr. Helen Cho, she’s been taking real good care of ya.” You turn to the doctor in question, watching her smile carefully.

“Hi, Y/N.” She says softly. “How are you feeling?” The adrenaline from the moment has yet to pass, and you’re still breathing heavily, but you swallow it all down and give her an answer.

“I’m fine, just was a little… lost for a second.”

“Do you remember what happened?” She asks, voice soft. You nod.

“I was talking to Bucky and— and I fell unconscious.”

“That’s right,” She says, coming closer. You watch her move slowly and deliberately so you can be familiar with her every move. “Do you know why?” You do, and a faint horror runs through you at the thought of them discovering the contraption at the base of your skull. You choose to stay silent, and the doctor continues.

“Are you aware that there’s a… device at the back of your head? Your body fell unconscious because it sent out _quite_ the powerful current through you.”

“I…” You fiddle with your thumbs. “I know.” The three other people in the room exchange a look.

“Okay, well… do you mind telling us how it got there?” She urges. “That way we could talk about a way to extract it, or—”

“ _No!_ ” You yelp instantly. Your skin shakes. “You can’t do that.” She turns her head in confusion.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, you just… can’t.” You finish flatly, avoiding her questioning glance. Bucky strokes the skin of your cheek softly, and you realize with a start, that he’s still cradling your face. Your ears tinge pink, and you face him again. He nods encouragingly.

“It’s a failsafe,” You murmur. “If you try to remove it… the detonation will kill us both.” Three startled expressions greet you at your admission. You sigh, and shake off Bucky’s touch. “It’s fine, it’s _okay,_ now that my powers are back, I can… I can lessen the pain. Thank you, for the help.”

“Y/N…” Bucky begins, but you shake your head.

“I’m sorry for trying to kill you, Bucky,” You say truthfully, turning to him, watching his eyes take you in. You hope he will let it go. 

“Who did this to you?” Steve asks, eyebrows knitted together.

“Who’s _doing_ this to you?” Bucky repeats, eyes alight with a vehement, infernal fire. You’re shocked.

“It… doesn’t matter.” You say, gnawing at your lip. “I— I have to go.” You fling the covers back, ready to make a quick escape when Bucky’s arms lock on either side of you, halting you in your tracks. You’re caged in, and it makes you gulp.

“They’re _hurting_ you, Y/N,” He argues. “Of course it matters.” His voice melts, spiraling into a smooth, cooing silk that makes you look away. Bucky captures your chin in his cybernetic hand, and tilts your face so you can look right into his eyes. Steve makes a noise of agreement, and comes to squat down next to Bucky, staring up at you. It’s almost paradoxical seeing them together; the view so familiar but so different.

“Y/N…” Steve starts. “Who is Lafayette?”

Your eyes fall shut in assent. You draw in a long breath.

“Steve, Bucky? Dr. Cho?” You call. Bucky nods instantly, smoothing his hand over your knee. You repeat the advice you’d given to Natasha. “You guys should probably grab a chair.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finalize the plans for DIVISION’s downfall, only to be surprised by a few new variables.

**_DIVISION Headquarters — Present_ **

“Lafayette?” You call out into the room. “I’m back.” Instantly, you hear him starting to scramble to you, and within a matter of seconds he is in front of you, looking frazzled.  

“What took you so long?” He demands, looking like he hadn’t gotten sleep. You cock your head, and raise a single eyebrow.

“You sent me to kill the _Winter Soldier._ ” You reiterate. “Are you sure you know what that entails?”

“I- I do, but usually you’re very… efficient.” He says, clearing his throat when he notices your gaze snap to him in disgust. He can sense something different about your demeanor, and the uncertainty of the territory has him choosing his words rather carefully.

“That hasn’t changed.” You clarify. “He’s dead. There were a few complications but it’s done. Just as you requested. His death should be announced on the news in a couple days, seeing as the Avengers wanted to privatize the matter– at least for a little while.”

“You went face-to-face with the Avengers?” He asks, incredulous.

“I did what I had to do. Can I go now?” You growl, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. Lafayette seems to realize the gravity of the situation, pulling back and nodding slowly. He remembers the way you get after missions, the dead expression and demeanor that easily flares to anger at the slightest stimulant unless you got the chance to unwind and reflect by yourself.

“Yes. Yes, go decompress. I understand it wasn’t easy.” He provides, almost placatingly, watching you retreat to your quarters.

“No mission is ever easy, but I do as I’m assigned,” You supply over your shoulder, knowing he’d be pleased with the sentiment. It was a test– to see if you would agree and admit to your humanity rather than steeling yourself to the machine he had made you to be. Everything was a goddamn test with him. “This was no different.” You can imagine his seedy grin without having to turn around.

“I’m proud of you, 409.” Lafayette calls before you walk out of earshot.

_Proud._

The expression infuriates you- makes your scalp prickle and bones rattle with repulsion. You clench your fists. You want to spew a few threats of your own to him; to tell him that if he _ever_ abuses the shock wave device inside you like that again, you’ll make sure to rip it out yourself. In front of him too, so you can obliterate his every bone and artery. Consequences be damned.

But, you need to keep up the act.

Because Bucky Barnes wasn’t dead. But, if everything went according to plan, within a week, DIVISION would be so.

“I’m ready, Alyssa.”

She draws back from the embrace she had engulfed you in, eyebrows practically at her hairline. She struggles to utter out her sentence for a few beats.

“R-Ready for what?” She asks, even though she already knows. You almost laugh in confusion.

“Ready for DIVISION to meet it’s end.” You divulge, appraising her skeptically. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She bites her lip and takes a seat, pulling you down with her, hands firmly clasping yours.

“While you were in Malaysia for the past year, Lafayette sort of… promoted me.” She starts. “Something about making sure his legacy was in place.” You stare at her.

“Anyway, I got access to a lot of files and information that I didn’t even know existed before. I’ve been reading up on the history, the work this organization has done. You wouldn’t believe it, the- the lives that DIVISION has…”

“Destroyed?” You finish for her.

“ _Changed._ ” She ends without missing a beat. You snatch your hands away from her grasp instantly, a wide-eyed, betrayed expression overtaking your features. Instantly, she seems to realize her mistake. “No, _no_ — that’s not what I meant.”

“What _did_ you mean, Alyssa?” You snarl, hopping up from your sitting position and putting more distance between the two of you. “What are you trying to say?”

“Listen to me, hon.” She says soothingly. “Think objectively. If DIVISION was truly an evil and corrupt institution, don’t you think it would have been put down by now? Don’t you think it would have left some imprint of it’s wickedness that would have caused people to push back?”

“I’m not following.” You cross your arms up over your chest.

“DIVISION was founded by some of the earliest scientists— _magicians_ — of the world. There are records that date all the way back to the feudal times. Ancient high ranking priests, alchemists, astronomers… They understood and recognized the capacity for good the human race held in a world of injustice. They knew that the line, or the _divide_ , rather, between science and magic was thin. They wanted to use that duality to improve upon the world as they knew it.”

“So, what changed?” You found yourself asking.

“The power fell into the wrong hands. Lafayette’s ancestry was one of many in a long line of families that were burnt by DIVISION’s operations- badly. His great-grandfather infiltrated the society of leaders, and his family has been in control ever since. They’ve been merciless in the butchering of all of DIVISION’s hard work. And, Lafayette? He’s the most nefarious of them all, because he’s taken the original vision and twisted it into something dark and depraved for his own desires. He is desperate to hold onto the power, to have someone like him continue the oppressive regime he’s set on these people. People like you and me. That’s why he’s running errant, trying to find an heir.” She explains in a long breath, whispering quietly as if there were a person beyond your doors, listening in.

“Very few people here share Lafayette’s views. Most of the workers here had a passion for science, for the sheer charm of the natural world. Like me, they were roped into… whatever the hell Lafayette has done to DIVISION.” Alyssa finally looks back up at you meaningfully. You don’t even have to ask to know what she’s thinking. “They don’t deserve the same fate as Lafayette.”

“You want me to save DIVISION.”

“I want you to save and run DIVISION.” She clarifies. “Let it be the beacon of light- of human curiosity and understanding it was before. There’s no one better to lead these people than you.”

“You’re overestimating me severely, Alyssa.” You add quickly, shaking your head faintly. She smiles sadly.

“I’m not,” She replies, easily and confidently. “I’ll be by your side, just like I promised. I’ve already have a list of the people that support and root for Lafayette, so leave the technicalities to me.” She says, moving her hands as if she were waving your worries away.

Suddenly, you remember your conversation with Steve and Bucky about Lafayette.

Alyssa quirks an eyebrow, and you scratch the back of your head sheepishly.

“Speaking of technicalities…”

* * *

**_Avengers Tower — 24 Hours Earlier_ **

You stand at the middle of the room, staring down a room full of Avengers as they size you up.

“So, we’re supposed to trust her? Just like that?” The older man who had been introduced as ‘Rhodey,’ inquires, ever the voice of reason. A few of the others grumble in agreement.

“Guys,” Steve directs, quieting the fussing bunch. His voice takes on that authoritative quality of Captain America. “You may not trust her, but you trust me, right? Believe me when I say that she poses no threat to us.”

“We do not know where her loyalties lie,” Wanda pipes up quickly. And– yeah, alright, that’s fair.

“Wherever that may be,” You begin, tired of hearing these people talk of you as if you’re not at the center of the room, on display like a prize pig. “I can assure you it’s not with DIVISION. And, it’s not against any of you.”

“And, pray tell, why should we believe you?” Iron Man- or, _Tony_ \- asks, cocking his head to the side as his voice drips with something not unlike sarcasm. “I mean you did try to kill our dear Sergeant here not too long ago.”

“So did you, Tony,” Steve notes, earning an unamused look.

“That’s different and you know it, Rogers.” He berates, clearly annoyed by Steve’s recollection. Steve fires back quickly, prompting an answer from Sam Wilson and a few others, who begin to speak progressively quicker and louder until hollers and cries fill the room. You observe with wide eyes, the chaos overwhelming you. You swallow nervously, waiting for the discord to end, but it only gets more riotous. Bucky notices.

“Enough!” Bucky growls, teeth gritting menacingly. The room falls silent, all eyes on Bucky- who had spoken for the first time that evening. He looks to you pointedly. “A word?” You gulp, looking back at the people around you, your gaze being returned with an intense fervor by all of the Avengers, before facing Bucky again. You nod slowly, following Bucky as he retreats into a different room.

He leads you to an outdoor patio, decorated with casual amenities; all complete with an array of snacks on a tabletop. Laptops and tablets fill every cushioned sofa seat. You would laugh at the absurdity of it- an extravagant _patio_ \- if your apprehension wasn’t in the process of swallowing you whole.

“M’sorry,” Bucky says. You’re surprised by the exchange, and it must have shown. “I know they can be a bit… overbearin’ but, they’re family. You got to understand, they can’t just—”

“James,” You interrupt quickly, not realizing what had escaped from your lips. His eyes flash to yours so quickly, you can still discern the dilation of his pupils as they change to the adjustment of light. You almost cover your mouth with your hand in surprise, your own words astonishing you. It was almost like muscle memory, the way it had slipped from your mouth. His eyes soften, the blue in his eyes liquefying entrancingly, and you have to force yourself to look away. A nostalgic smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You clear your throat. “I do understand. I can’t expect to prance into the building, days after I tried to murder you, and expect everyone to be on board.”

“But, it wasn’t your fault,” He says, voice soft. This time, you do laugh.

“I don’t think it’s quite as black and white as that.” You reply honestly, shrugging.

“Really?” He asks, almost sassily.

“Yes, _really._ ” You repeat, your hands coming to rest at your hips. “My actions were never a debate of good versus evil, because unlike you, I was fully cognizant during my missions.” Bucky looks up at you, frowning at the way you shake your head at the ground, and wring your hands together behind your back. Embarrassment and guilt fills you everytime you think of it— pursuing Bucky as a mission even though he was a victim. Steve had been kind enough to catch you up last night, when you had confessed that you couldn’t get any sleep.

For the first time in a long time, you saw the old Steve. Smiling, almost bashful Steve who brought you peanuts from the kitchen for old times’ sake and sat with you until the sun rose, telling you of all that you had missed. He had fallen asleep sitting on the floor with his head propped up against the foot of your bed.

“I am truly sorry, Bucky,” You begin again, trying for a sincere plea. “The things I said to you on that rooftop, I had no _right_. It was never your fault. I think despite wanting to seem like I had moved on from the situation, a part of me still hated you for what you did to me in the 40’s. I don’t know, it… must’ve came crashing back. So, when I thought that you had killed all those people, I guess I just lost it and—”

“ _Stop,_ ” He breathes out, shaking his head lightly. “Jus’ stop.” You’re taken aback, and it must show because instantly his eyes widen, and he scrambles closer to you. He gathers your face into his hands, and makes you stare at him.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for,” He says, his voice firm. “Nothing.” His hands loosen, and he takes a step back. “I do.” You open your mouth to argue, but he shakes his head.

“Never had the chance to tell you how much of an idiot I was,” He starts. “Y/N… God, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I don’t know what the hell was goin’ through my head. The way I treated you before I left— it was ruthless. I guess I thought I was savin’ you from th- the pain, but when I saw you before I left, I understood. I ain’t sayin’ this to make this about me, but Christ, it tore me _apart_.”

Your lower lip quivers.

“Thank you… for saying that,” You reply robotically, your voice taking on a false sense of congeniality. He shakes his head instantly.

“Don’t do that,” He says, coming closer again. “You don’t gotta pretend like everything is suddenly okay. I know it’s going to take a lot more than that— trust me, I know.“ You watch him as he speaks, his voice warm.

“We should talk about DIVISION,” You say quickly, blinking away tears and steeling yourself. Bucky looks almost disappointed, but nods anyway. He grabs one of the laptops, opening up what looks like a database of information, pulling up articles and codes and a number of other files you wouldn’t understand unless you had a chance to survey them properly. He begins speaking, talking about possible plans when you stop him. “Listen, I… appreciate all that you and Steve are doing, but _I_ need to do this. By myself.”

“ _What?_ ” Bucky scoffs, looking at you like you had suggested something insane. “That’s not happening.” You huff out an exasperated sigh.

“I’ve been working on a plan with a confidant since the fifites. I’ve got it figured out, Bucky. You and Steve need to _let_ me do this.”

“That’s not a plan, it’s a suicide mission!” He bellows, suddenly angry. You stare at him in disbelief, and he calms, sighing. “I did some research on DIVISION last night, and this… this is _real._ And big.” You stare at him with a confused sort of fury.

“I’ve been unmade, twisted from the inside out more times than you can _fathom._ I know just how real it is, and I have planned accordingly.” You shake your head, stony eyes meeting his confidently. “This isn’t your fight.” Bucky seems to deflate.

“I get that. I do.” He placates, voice low and understanding. “But, just think about how much safer it would be if you had The Avengers with you. It would be so much easier to take them down with me–” He clears his throat. “ _Us_ by your side.” You stare at him.

“It’s a delicate and complicated plan. I don’t know if it’s possible to bring in all these new variables without offsetting—” You stop to sigh, bringing a hand to your temple. “You said it yourself— this is big. I can’t ask your friends to support me and risk their lives all the while. I don’t need to risk more casualties.”

“I know that they’ve been hard on you. But, they just need to see a reason why they should trust you and you’ve got them. They’re the kind of people you want on your side.” You turn around, running your fingers through your hair.

“Bucky, I don’t have time for this. I need to get going, so Lafayette doesn’t—”

“You’re going back to him? Back _there?!_ ” He practically screeches. Icy fingers wrap around your wrist. “You can’t do that!”

“You’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do,” You hiss at him, eyes heated, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. “I’ve spent too many years of my life being the damsel in distress. I can save myself!”

“Dammit, Y/N!” He roars, his breathing heavy. “This isn’t about what you can and can’t do. It’s about me not having to show up to your funeral!” You already have a reply ready, but for some reason, his last words hit hard. Your body slackens. “I already lost you once.”

You try to even out your breathing so your heart will stop it’s heavy thundering.

“But, I tried to kill you…”

Bucky comes impossibly closer and takes your hands into his. He lets himself feel the weight of your hands in his for a minute, before bringing one palm to his chest and another to his neck, sliding his grasp down to your arms. Your mouth goes dry.

The beating of his heart mirrors yours.

“I’m alive, right?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The wind flutters by, kissing your cheeks and his forehead. You swallow and nod. “Then, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I’m not sure it’s quite that simple,” You whisper softly.

“It is if you’ll let it be,” He argues. “Look, I know how much this means to you, and I swear to ya, I ain’t tryna take that away from you. I just need to be there with you. Whatever you need, whatever you’re going to do, I’m with you. All I need is for you to let me help.”

You stare at him. He chews on his lower lip, staring at you pleadingly and pressing your hand further into his chest as he clutches it tightly with his own. He nods encouragingly.

“ _Please,_ ” He begs. The city holds it’s breath, each revving engine humming to a crescendo as the concrete streets await your response. Skyscrapers clutch the clouds in anticipation, the Hudson River slowing in it’s path to listen in on the tête-à-tête.

“Okay,” You finally answer, your voice hushed. “ _Okay._ But, we play by my rules.”

For the first time since 1943, you witness Bucky Barnes grin.

* * *

**_DIVISION Headquarters_ **

“So, when were you going to tell me that you fucked Bucky Barnes?”

“What?!” You yelp, your voice shrill and squeaky. A blush scathes your cheeks. “We did _nothing_ of the sort.”

“Mm-hmm,” Alyssa hums disbelievingly, grinning at your response. You rub at your face furiously, not meeting Alyssa’s eyes as she cackles happily.

“Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?” You mutter, still feeling embarrassed. Alyssa huffs out a reluctant sigh, but gives in.

“So, he managed to convince you to let the Avengers help, and then what?” She asks.

“They sat me down at some giant conference room, and let me talk.” You explain. “I told them all about what happened, what we found, our plans and…” You stopped to gauge her reactions. Alyssa motioned for you to continue. “And, they listened.”

You describe to Alyssa how you had explicated your plans to them, going over everything from entrances and exits of the headquarters to the history and how you planned to exploit Lafayette’s weaknesses.

“We fortified a lot of the defects in the plan, and they were able to provide me with more efficient ways to suspend DIVISION’s resources but…”

“We have to start from scratch if we want to save DIVISION,” Alyssa finishes for you. You nod gravely, clenching your jaw.

“The point is that they’re caught up, and on board.” You finally add, trying to bring up a positive point. “Steve told me that they could be ready within the hour, but obviously, I told them to standby and wait. There’s a reason we waited all these years.”

 _“How long will we have to wait for your call?”_ The room for of Avengers had asked.

“Looks like they’re in luck,” Alyssa mutters. “The last step in your training commences tonight— the details of which Lafayette hasn’t even stored in DIVISION files. I don’t know what it is, but I’m assuming it’s something monumental. It’s going to drain you and you’ll need the opportunity to recharge.”

“Then, you’re going to have to contact them for me,” You instruct, coming to stand next to her. “You can get a burner cell, right? I’ve told them about you, but it’s up to you to go find them and let them know of the changes we’re gonna make right now to salvage this place.”

Alyssa squares her shoulders.

“We better get to work then.” She lays out a blueprint of the fortress like building you two are in. “Let’s change the world.”

* * *

“Take a seat, 409,” Lafayette directs as soon as you step into the testing room. “It’s time for an upgrade.” You take a quick look around the room, eyeing the snipers at the ceiling and sniffing at the alcohol-sterile smell. You account for the exits and the number of instruments that could double as weapons.

_Reinforced steel double doors. 3 ventilation shafts and a bulletproof window. Hidden staircase that leads to the main hall._

“She’ll need to be alone for this,” The doctor turns to Alyssa, who gives a reassuring smile to you. He stares at her pointedly until she nods and exits the room. She watches you lie back on the leather chair, praying that everything goes smoothly.

Alyssa begins a trek to a small electronics store, her bag full of the recent changes to the agenda weighing heavy as clocks out. She swallows down the apprehension and dials the number you had provided her with on the burner cell.

Captain America picks up and invites her to the Avengers tower. Even offers to give her a ride, but she manages to sputter out that she will manage. Sam Wilson greets her at the door, his smile melting when he notices the nervous way her eyes flitter to him.

“You’re not the pizza delivery girl, are you?”

She huffs out a laugh as she enters.

Alyssa doesn’t even realize that hours have passed, until she checks her clock. She has to admit, that once the group of superheroes were involved, they were fully immersed. As soon as she had arrived, they had ushered her into a conference room and gave her the platform to speak freely. The thing about speaking to The Avengers is that they absorb the new loads of information shoved in their face without a complaint; only taking it and trying to find ways to improve upon it and memorize it.

“She will need a full day’s rest to recover; everytime Lafayette teaches her something new, her energy is depleted severely.”

“Wait, she’s back in the testing room?” Alyssa hears Bucky ask, suddenly on the edge of his seat like he’s gearing to go and rescue her himself. “How could you let her do that?” His demanding tone makes Alyssa draw back. She squints.

“Relax, loverboy,” She fires quickly, watching as Bucky leans back sheepishly, a light pink crawling up his cheeks. “Y/N’s a lot stronger than you’re willing to give her credit for. Besides, this last step is one of the reasons why we waited so long to carry out this plan. After this, she will be at her strongest. And, that’s where she needs to be when Lafayette goes down.”

She speaks for a little while longer, discussing final technicalities and each of their responsibilities.

“Thank you,” Alyssa concludes, looking each person in the eye. “I know that this doesn’t affect any of you directly, but your… help— if I can even call it that because it’s so much _more—_  means the world.”

Alyssa arrives back to the DIVISION base at midnight, appalled to see you in your room, IV’s and EKG’s surrounding you.

“Her vitals were dropping once the doctor was gone with her,” one of the lab assistants had explained when she’d pressed for an explanation. “She’s been stabilized since then.”

“God, what’d he _do_? Why is she so drained?”

“We still don’t know,” The assistant replies honestly. “No one does, but it’s clear he did some sorta number on her. Her blood pressure, body temperature and pulse have never dropped so fast.” Alyssa thanks him before he leaves, and takes a seat next to your unconscious figure. She brushes your hair back softly.

She sits and waits.

When your eyes finally flutter open half-way through the next day, your mouth feels dry and the light of the room hits your eyes too hard. Your bones are on fire, but you feel stronger. More capable.

When Alyssa asks what it is that you had learned, you don’t tell her. You make it clear that the only reason is because you never plan on using it, and you know she’s surprised by how defensive and shaken you sound. Thankfully, she doesn’t pry, knowing you’ll tell her when you’re ready.

“Lafayette’s gonna assign you a new mission tonight, which means that this could very well be the chance we were looking for,” She informs, handing you a folder with the information pre-gathered. She stares at you pointedly, and lowers her voice. “The Avengers are awaiting our call to ready themselves, and it’s up to you when you want to do this. We can wait until your next mission if you’re still recuperating, but…”

“No,” You reply quickly but surely. “We’ve waited long enough. I’m ready. Lafayette’s reign of terror has lasted long enough.” Alyssa grins. You can’t help yourself from wrapping your arms around her.

“I can’t believe we actually made it this far,” She whispers, her voice cracking. You nod in agreement, burrowing your face further into the warmth of her embrace.

“We’ll get a lot further.” You promise. “See you at sunrise?”

“Sunrise.”

* * *

You convene at the Tower, listening to Steve review each person’s duty. You take a good look. They truly look like one unit, each iron suit and tactical gear complementing and offsetting each other beautifully.

You all travel together to the DIVISION headquarters, one large and intimidating group of people intent on their goal. Your footsteps slow and become quiet as your approach the site.

“This is it,” Steve announces. “Positions, people.”

The group scatters, Wanda floating down to the underground passage and Sam soaring above to provide an aerial view, Tony and Rhodey settling into the hidden entrances. You take your post at the main archway, sighing deeply and staring up at the gates with a familiar apprehension you haven’t felt in decades.

A low hum commences in your earpiece, telling you the private comms is on.

“Y/N,” It’s Bucky. “ _This is your fight._ ”

Vengeance swirls within you; the flame in your eyes catches the tinder in your heart.

You charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are going to be updated on a weekly to bi-weekly basis now because this is all I have written! I'm going to be writing as I go now. I hope you liked the chapter, let me know what you enjoyed what you didn't. 
> 
> Thank you so goddamn much for the kind comments and encouragements. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of the Avengers, you save DIVISION while making sure Lafayette meets his demise. But, will everything go according to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy! <3

The dark hallways beckon ominously, each looming shadow and flickering light inciting trepidation through your veins.

“Alright, Y/N,” Comes a voice inside your ear through your earpiece. “Facility fortifications have been disabled. You have two hours until the headquarters go into lockdown. Alyssa’s already ushered out any friendlies to an off-grounds site, so that means anyone left in here… they’re fair game. But, let us worry about that. You find Lafayette.”

“Understood,” You mutter, stalking towards the doctor’s lab. You try to keep a straight, stoic face as you approach the entrance to the top floor, where his lab awaits. Two familiar guards halt you in your path, making you sigh in disbelief at them. 

“Oh come on, boys,” You hum at the couple halting your path. Their thick arms and broad chests don’t faze you one bit; it would take very little effort, if any at all, on your part to incapacitate them and continue on your way. But, you don’t want to alert anyone yet; it would just make your job harder.

“Sorry,” One of them huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Doctor said no entry for anyone unless they’re authorized, and all tech is down.”

“You’re really not gonna let _me_ in? Of all people?” You ask in disbelief, putting a hint of petulance into your voice. You could warp their mental realities, but all the guards at DIVISION had been supplied with devices that alerted them when you used your powers.

“Well, I mean since it’s _you_ …” One of the two guards seem to relent, looking to his partner as if for assurance. The other guard shakes his head firmly, bringing the first out of his dilemma.

“Fine,” You sigh, long and heaving. “Didn’t wanna have to do this, but alas… it’s been a long time coming.” You give a quick upshot of your hands, solidifying your hands as you felt their blood paths run to a stop. They freeze as a look of panic overtakes them, hands falling to their sides, and watches beginning to blare as the device tells them rather uselessly that you were using your powers to your advantage.

You snatch the gadgets from them, sliding them under your foot and smashing it to pieces. You let up on the force before they can suffer any fatal brain damage, and let their unconscious bodies rest as you step over their bodies and enter the restricted floor.

You face more than a few more guards as you sweep the floor, knocking any hostiles out and continuing on your trek. Time begins to drag as your subdue guard after guard, trying to make your way to your end goal. You’re distracted by the thoughts of what you’re going to do to Lafayette, a blinding sort of frenzied fury filling you to the brim. You don’t realize your moves getting sloppy until you have the laser of a small, red dot at the center of your chest, where you know your aorta twines around your heart.

“Thought you were one of the good ones,” The man says almost wistfully, shaking his head in mock-disappointment. You recognize him as one of the guard squadron leaders. You go to move your wrists but he steps closer before you can even twitch. “Not one move, 409. We’ve taken enough of your shit- always fuckin’ whining about your luck and your place here. ‘Least we can put you down now… like a rabid _bitch._ ”

“See now, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” Comes a sarcastic voice to your right. You gape, surprised to see Sam Wilson taking on a defensive stance, crashing his fist against the guard’s face and sending a tooth flying.

He falls to his knees, spitting out blood, and looking up at you and Sam fearfully. You cock your head and smile innocently as you use your powers to send his body flying into the concrete wall behind him, a few on bones cracking loudly as they break.

“I had that handled you know,” You mention carefully, watching Sam as he turns to you after smashing the guard’s blaring watch. He grins, showing off an almost infectiously friendly smile. You can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips in response.

“But, teamwork is so much more _fun_ ,” He insists, with a raise of his eyebrow. You smile wider, realizing he is indeed right. You’ve never fought alongside anyone before, and this simple task of subduing one guard was the most entertainment you’ve had in a while. Sam knows you agree without you having to say a word; your elated expression is answer enough.

“Lead the way, ma’am.” He says, stepping aside and outstretching his arm as a gesture of gentlemanliness. You giggle. “Let’s kick some DIVISION ass.”

There is no eloquent way to put what happens thereafter because it is just that; ass-kicking. No foe stands a chance when you and Sam come together, each enemy falling away like mere insects. It turns out that his fantastic mechanical wings were used for more offensive purposes rather than just flying– the heavyweight of the appendages rather useful in a hand-to-hand battle.

“This is it,” You announce softly to Sam, staring up at the double steel doors in front of you. You two work rather well together, you think to yourself, looking back at the line of unconscious bodies you had left behind. “Lafayette’s lab.” You reach up and press the flat of your palm to the entrance, shutting your eyes and taking a long, bone-deep breath.

Memories come rushing back; each piercing wail clawing it’s way out of your throat, each gasp for air, each cry for Carter and Bucky and Alyssa when you were crowded into the testing rooms. Each desperate prayer falling upon deaf ears. Your life being torn from your white-knuckled grasp, your youth and future reduced to pathetic embers.

You surge forward, using the weight of your body to barge inside, Sam hot on your heels. You take a quick survey of the room, trying to feel for Lafayette’s presence. In all your years at DIVISION, you had never been allowed inside this lab; there were plenty of security measures in place, including a retinal and thumbprint scanner that only gave access to the doctor himself. But, with Tony’s mechanical help, you now had the means of entry for every room in the building.

There are a few consistencies in the safety measures across every room, ones you had already told Sam about as you had made your way to the lab. He follows you as you disarm each mechanical gun while you walk, making sure to avoid all that you had warned him about.

“I had a feeling that this day would come eventually,” Lafayette’s voice comes from your far right. You turn your head slowly, raising your head defiantly and squaring your shoulders. “Why is that, 409?”

“Because you’re smart, doctor,” You answer truthfully. He shakes his head almost mournfully.

“All those years, and yet you choose to stay blind to DIVISION’s potential. It’s a shame.” He deplores. “I see you’ve brought friends.” He turned his gaze to Sam, looking him up and down. “Hardly fair, don’t you think?”

“You’re never taught me to play fair,” You shrug.

“Touché,” Is all he provides as you both attack. He immediately reaches for the remote that controls the apparatus at your neck, while you thrust your hand out for his position. He roars as he falls to his knees against his will, while you feel a charged sensation bloom underneath your cerebellum. It does little to stop you, although it takes twice as much effort on your part to heal yourself _and_ hurt him.

Independent self-operating weapons that haven’t been decommissioned by Tony’s device begin to fire at you and Sam. He dodges them fluidly, bulletproof wings keeping him safe while you allow the rounds to pierce your skin. You advance on the doctor, your skin healing up almost instantly from the bullet wounds while you apply pressure to the doctor’s spinal cord- keeping him immobile on the floor. He tries to use his arms to scramble away from you, but it’s futile. Your steps are sporadic, the impact of the bullet cartridges preventing you from using your full range of motion, but it’s no matter.

“You made me to be a god, remember?” You hiss, your voice noxious and macabre. “La Audivina Aurea shows no mercy.” A cold sweat sprouts at his forehead, each bead reflecting the buzzing lights of the lab. His chest heaves.

“Y/N…” He chokes out, gasping. You draw back, the word making you stop. You don’t remember a time when he hadn’t called you by your title or as ‘409.’ You bark out a laugh, knowingly letting up on some pressure.

“So you _do_ know my name,” You snap bitterly, clapping slowly with contempt. “Extra points for you, doc.” Lafayette uses your moment of distraction to fire another mechanical taser with a remote; except this time, he doesn’t aim it at you.

Sam groans lowly, the jolt of electricity firing into his abdomens– and you personally know how strong it is. Your eyes widen, and you hear yourself gasp in horror, running to the man so you can heal him.

Your golden wisps dig deep into his sepia-brown skin, healing the burns hastily, shaking your head as you notice the sheer strength of it had pierced the skin. His chest arches into your hand while you piece his skin back together.

“H-He’s running,” Sam whisperes to you, his speech slurred. You turn to him, glassy eyes staring at him like he’s insane.

“That’s the least of my worries right now, Sam,” You mutter back, trying to feel for any internal damage. There’s bleeding that will stop eventually, but you know there’s deeper levels of pain. You quickly tend to that while he continues speaking, making the menial task-to you, at least- much harder.

“You’re bein… being ridiculous. Just call for backup n’ follow the man,” He makes a feeble attempt at a command, coughing between his words. You give him a glare.

“I can find him again, he’s not going anywhere.” You assure him, although you do call for backup into your earpiece. “Now shush.” He squirms, trying to get you to stop fussing, but you won’t stand for it. It takes you a few minutes but you finish rather swiftly.

Wanda bursts in through the double doors, followed by Bucky who watch as Sam makes his way to his feet, wobbling a little before steadying himself.

“He’s alright,” You inform Wanda and Bucky. “But, get him out of here and keep an eye on him, will you?”

“Will you stop mother henning me?” Sam asks exasperatedly, shaking his head almost affectionately at you. You smile lowly. “I can help you find Lafayette again– Team Golden Falcoln, remember?” You laugh.

“Not a chance, birdboy.” You mandate bossily, before turning to Wanda and Bucky. “You guys gonna be good?” Bucky opens his mouth to say something but Wanda beats him to it.

“We will be okay,” Wanda confirms, taking Sam’s elbow into her dainty hands. She eyes you curiously. “You let Lafayette go to save him?” She sounds almost awed. You duck your head, willing away the flush that comes with the implication of her words.

“Don’t worry, he’s not slipping away so easily.” You offer, as if trying to appease her. “I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” You start charging away, not realizing a certain metal-armed super soldier beginning to follow you.

“Will you slow down?” You hear Bucky ask. The question makes you jump, and you blush for being so easily startled. You narrow your eyes at the man.

“What’re you doing here? Go back to Wanda and Sam,” You tell him, starting to walk again. You hear him chuckle.

“Like hell I am,” He mumbles, following in your footsteps. You whirl around, crossing your arms.

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard me,” He challenges. “I’m comin’ with ya.”

“No, you’re not,” You insist, pointing in the opposite direction, trying to will him away and frowning when it doesn’t work. You sigh. “I don’t have time for this, Buck. Whatever happened to playing by my rules?” He looks almost guilty before shrugging.

“Whatever happened to lettin’ me help, huh?” He counters. You roll your eyes. You have about a hundred other arguments ready– the last person you want to put in harm’s way is Bucky. And the big, dumb, idiot can’t get that through his thick skull. But, the clock is ticking as you speak and Lafayette would be getting further and further with each passing second.

“Fine, but you stay out of my way, got it?” You try to sound as domineering as possible, jamming a finger into his chest. He grins, all boyish and satisfied and smirky, holding up two hands in surrender, one still wrapped around the handle of his gun.

“Yes, ma’am.” He hums into your ear, before pulling away and adjusting his tactical rifle against his hip so he can hold it comfortably. You don’t want to think about what those simple two words do to your already hammering heart, so you clear your throat and nod before progressing on your path.

You notice that you work even better with Bucky than Sam, but you reason with yourself. You know that it’s because you’ve fought against each other before.

 _Obviously, we know each other’s fighting style better,_ You berate yourself as Bucky finishes off a guard you had immobilized. _That’s all._

“So, what’s your plan once we find ‘im?” Bucky inquires casually. You swallow, pretending like you hadn’t heard him. He calls your name, and you sigh and shut your eyes. “Don’t tell me you ain’t got a plan.”

“I have a plan.” You insist, turning back to him.

“Enlighten me, then.” His tone makes you wanna wipe that expectant look right off of his face. You make a frustrated growl, spin right around, and make to walk away when a sleeted hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back. You flail as you spin and slam a solid wall of muscle. A blood-warm hand, occupied by by his obscenely large firearm, comes to rest at your waist to steady you as you huff petulantly.

“So, you’re gonna wing it, s’that it?”

“I’m not winging it! What I _am_ doing is going through with this by myself. You’ve already helped enough– you all have. But, it’s up to me face him on my own.”

“You wanna get yourself killed? Huh?”

“If that’s what it takes! Better me than…” You swallow, stopping yourself. Your gaze drops to the floor. Bucky’s position loosens, his eyebrows relaxing from their narrowed form and his metal fingers tightening just a hair around your wrist. Understanding seems to swell within him.

“You drive me crazy, y’know that?” He asks softly.

You didn’t know that.

You look up at him to tell him exactly that, mouth open when you’re taken aback by the look in his eyes. Your heart palpitates faster– pounding at an almost alarming rate when he uses the tip of his cybernetic thumb to trace a barely-there, fluttering circle around your radial pulse that transforms into a figure-eight as it travels up to thumb at the ring on your hand. His ring.

A pull fills your body, so charged and electrical that it fills your irises with a shimmering, molten gold which matches the kind that emanates from your fingertips. Bucky stares, transfixed, for a long minute.

“I didn’t know your eyes were that color,” He whispers, chuckling lowly. You have to stop yourself from gasping as you realize the stance you two are in. Metal hand clutching your wrist in the air, and the other tucked around your middle. “I’ve never seen you like this. Your _eyes_.” He finishes.

“This is no time for a waltz,” You mutter to him, recognizing his words from the time he had taught you to dance and looking down at your intertwined bodies. It was so long ago, you can’t believe he remembers. He smiles.

“Raincheck, then.”

Bucky nudges you on the shoulder gently, drawing you out of your thoughts. He motions for you to follow him.

“I think I hear footsteps– they’re not of a guard’s. The guards wear heavy combat boots, and these are of somebody else.” Bucky turns to you and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s our elusive doctor.” He suggests. You nod and follow Bucky, staying light on your feet and keeping an ear out.

“I hear it. He’s using the passageways through the walls.” You confirm with a hopeful grin, beginning to jog as the footsteps get faster and faster. “The only place it leads to is the downstairs armory.”

It takes you all of three minutes to reach your destination. The armory is a vast, stonewalled room with ceilings so high you can’t see the top in the dark, and so incredibly large that you’ve never actually seen it’s end. It houses all of DIVISION’s weapons and files, and predictably; a large exit that you assume is Lafayette’s goal.

You manage to convince Bucky to take a position high above, ready for help should you need it. It seems to satisfy him and before leaving, he gives you a final, lingering look. And then, seemingly on impulse, he plants a soft kiss to the crown of your head, warming the skin there and making you squeak in surprise before he scurries away.

You await Lafayette’s presence, confidence in your veins and a sudden calm overtaking you as you prepare. You anticipate scrambling footsteps, a worried and fearful look on his face– maybe even some begging for you to spare him when Lafayette enters. But, in reality, it’s the complete opposite.

The old man _swaggers_ in, a haunting leer on his face that fills your bones with the same dread you had felt when he’d first ambushed you in your room back in 1943. He laughs as he approaches, that goddamn facial scar somehow taunting you as he does.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, your voice even and calm. He laughs harder.

“All this pathetic effort. You could’ve had the world with DIVISION and yet you throw it away. Your foolishness is outstandingly comical.”

“Why’s that?”

“Do you really think you know of all my secrets?” He inquires, tone raspy. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve yet, 409.” You step forward, ready to demand for an explanation or to just end him right there, when you hear a hiss. The telltale sign of high pressure being released from it’s confined space.

It commences again, and again, and again. Tens and hundreds of the one sound being amplified. You turn side to side, watching the dark armory fill with lights as what look like holding cells open up.

“A true scientist test his variables more than once, until he finalizes his conclusion.” Lafayette adds over the noises. You hear grumbling emanate from the cells, sounds of bones cracking accompanying it. “ _You,_ my dear, are trial number four hundred and nine.”

A cold, paralyzing trepidation fills you as you realize each cell is numbered.

“Welcome to the island of misfits and rejects.” The doctor laughs. “You’ve got 408 people ready to meet you, Golden Diviner. And, they’re not particularly happy with your success in the face of their failures.”

The first person that greets you is hardly a person at all. His flesh is marred, skin practically hollowed out from malnutrition. He charges at you, baring his teeth and a chilling darkness behind his eyes. You aren’t sure what to do– you don’t even know how conscious these people are.

You lose Lafayette in the mob, each somehow ready for you to meet your demise. The first test subject opens his mouth wide, teeth long and sharp like that of a wolf– ready to rip your larynx out. It’s easy for you to bring him crumbling, howling in pain as he falls dead.

It takes you a minute to take note of the fact that all of them have different powers. The thought overwhelms you as you look around in mild hysteria. One woman sings and it takes every ounce of strength and to not let your eyes flutter closed and let the soft melody overtake you. Another man walks rigidly with rotting branches covered jutting out from places where his bones should be; his pale skin showing off the veins running through through him that aren’t red, but rather a chlorophyll-filled green.

The only thought that brings you comfort is that their hearts are frail. You assume that the people kept in these cells were kept alive just by a thread, each chamber with some sort of equipment to keep them in a coma-like state. You look up to Bucky’s position in panic, and he meets your gaze with an encouraging and confident nod.

“You can do this,” Your earpiece buzzes as he speaks. “Lafayette’s all yours, but I’m comin’ down there. Already called for backup.”

You turn back to the sea of bodies, assuaged by his words. Your golden light travels in limb like tangles, surging forward into multiple bodies and sending jolts through them that have them falling away with strangled gasps and low moans. Bucky joins you, assuring smile on his face as he knocks one of the test subjects square in the jaw.

Bucky is somehow heavy and light at the same time. Watching him fight is entrancing, because while each of his moves are calculating and precise, he’s a large man. Each strike packs hundreds of pound of solid muscle (or metal) that just about knocks the bones off their ligaments.

The first 50 don’t even make you bat an eye. Reaching one hundred is no sweat. But, by the 200th body you can feel the arms of fatigue ready to embrace. Luckily, that is when Tony barges in, followed by the rest of the Avengers.

While you fight, you know Lafayette is looking for a means of escape. However, with the facility on lockdown, there’s not one exit available for him to use. He clambers around the dark vault, looking for a hiding spot, but he’s the least of your worries for the moment.

You’re particularly grateful for the help of the Avengers when you begin taking hits. Previously, when harmed by one of Lafayette’s subjects, you just healed yourself and continues on your path. However, now, you had to preserve your energy while you fought, and that meant putting your injuries on the back burner. 

The feeling of blood trickling down your arm and the bruises blooming on your stomach was a foreign feeling.

To your relief, the mass slowly begins to dwindle. It all doesn’t seem to impossible anymore, and the thought makes you grin and huff as you swerve an attack and counter it successfully. Time passes, but you’re too busy to count exactly how long before there’s one subject left standing, their number engraved onto the inside of their wrist in red ink. 

Subject 408.

You almost bark out a laugh– there’s something poetic about it– when a sudden remorse grips you. You watch the woman stand and study you. These people… were they taken against their will just like you? You gulp, looking for depth behind the woman’s eyes, but it’s like staring into a big empty space of _nothing_.

They really were just corpses.

“What’s your name?” You ask, timidly. It’s a simple question but it means the world to you– and it’s your final straw. You need to know. The others stare at you like you’ve gone insane, Steve ready to take her down. She opens her mouth as if to answer, and you step forward, incredulous and ready to hear.

She screams.

Everyone around you quickly clamps their hands over their ears, eyes squeezing shut in distress. Your ears bleed but you barely process the pain because the agony in your chest burns much brighter. You raise your hands and crush the banshee’s vocal chords so no sound come out, your lower lip trembling.

So, this was what Lafayette had done. Made ghosts of nearly 500 people.  

Your revulsion for the doctor returns with a vengeance, as you charge past the woman, looking for him. Steve swoops in, putting her out of her misery as her hands clutch at her neck.

“Come out, Lafayette!” You bellow into the armory. “Not running scared, are you? You always told me to face my fears head on. Time to practice what you preach.”

You don’t expect him to, but he emerges. One hand pointing a revolver at you that he had presumably grabbed from one of the depositories– it was an armory, after all; and the other clasped around the remote that controlled the electric-shock device at your neck, thumb poised on one of the buttons.

There’s something wild in his eyes as his gaze flits from Avenger to Avenger, finally landing on you as you stare him down. He holds up the remote threateningly, waving the gun around so no one approaches him before letting the muzzle settle on you. You aren’t fazed in the least; bullet wounds are practically child’s play to you.

“I’ll do it.” His voice doesn’t shake, and you know he’s not lying. “I can make it explode and kill every single one of us in this room… or you can let me go now.” His ultimatum almost makes you scoff. 

Your eyes flicker up to Wanda, who nods because you know she’ll be able to contain the explosion without much of a struggle at all. Lafayette clocks this, eyes narrowing. 

You don’t realize how close Bucky is until he walks up and settles next you, letting some of his weight rest on you. You look around at the room of Avengers on their toes, ready to take Lafayette down at your command.

Gun and remote be damned, Lafayette was severely outnumbered. You laugh.

“I think that’ll be a hard pass, doc,” Bucky answers condescendingly. Lafayette squints, watching the way you’ve leant into Bucky’s warmth and the way his body had curled just right around you. Lafayette’s chest falls with a deep breath.

“That’s quite alright, Sergeant Barnes.” He says, lowering the remote in defeat. He looks to you. “ _You chose this._ ”

You raise an eyebrow at his cryptic words, but then time slows, each second digging into the atmosphere and passing at a speed unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed.

Lafayette swings the gun half a foot to the right, and shoots.

You don’t comprehend what’s happening until you discern the impact of the bullet next to you. You feel Bucky’s body jerk in surprise, and his body straighten rigidly. His machine gun clatters to the floor, eyes wide and soft. A gentle whisper of name emanates from his mouth as you realize where the ammunition had struck.

His heart.

You’re preoccupied by a freezing sort of disbelief to move until his body begins to fall. You jostle your way to the floor, cradling his head and letting his weight rest in your lap. You don’t know when the tears started falling, but when Bucky gives a small, final smile, your chest heaves. You release a cry, your power surging through you and the room, so vigorous that when it touches Lafayette, his body ruptures in a grotesque explosion that doesn’t leave behind any trace of his existence.

But, you don’t even notice. You can’t. Your eyes are trained on Bucky’s lifeless body, lids shut and jaw slack. 

You look to your hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry lmfao but the story isn't over yet, obviously. ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A death, a rebirth, and a reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 Playlist: [Game of Survival](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-T5eYF9WiRI) \- Ruelle / [Where’s My Love](https://soundcloud.com/symlmusic/wheres-my-love) \- SYML / [Love Galore](https://soundcloud.com/topdawgent/sza-love-galore-ft-travis-scott) \- SZA ft. Travis Scott

_**24 Hours Earlier**  
_

_“She’ll need to be alone for this,” Lafayette says sharply, raising an eyebrow, waiting for Alyssa to exit. She gives you a confident smile, and you return it, hoping her meeting with the Avengers will go over well. Alyssa leaves as he shuts the door._

_“Alright, Y/N.” He says with what looks like an excited smile. “This is gonna be your biggest challenge yet, but if we can pull it off…” He sighs out, face splitting into a hopeful smile and a slight nod. You hate how he says ‘we.’ As if somehow you two were on the same side._

_You watch as he walks over to a glass cage filled with a small mouse. He takes a syringe filled with some type of clear liquid and injects it into the abdomen of the small mouse. It gives a small squeak and twitches as it falls. Your hands itches to destroy Lafayette now, but you hold yourself back._

_“What did you do now?” You ask. Lafayette stares at you if you’d asked what the color of the sky was._

_“I killed it.” He says simply. This time you give him a stupefied look._

_“So… what? What do you want me to do?”_

_“I want you to raise it back to the land of the living,” He says simply. “Go on.” You do nothing, prompting a bout of laughter from the man. “You can do it. I’m not going to lie, it’s not easy, but it’s no different from healing others. Well, except this time, you’ll have to give a bit of yourself.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Your powers were never wealth, something to indulge in,” He explains. “It is and always was a give-and-take. The situation is no different here. You’ll have to share a portion of your soul and being.” He gestures towards the mouse again._

_A new apprehension consumes you, but you surge past it. You raise your hands._

* * *

_**Present** _

You huff, giving yourself a second to silence the demons. To drown every acid-scalding thought that threatens to bubble to the surface. To take a moment to blind yourself to the aghast stares of the people around you. You allow yourself a moment of utter white serenity.

Your fingertips find their way to the bullet hole in Bucky’s chest, the golden mist sailing effortlessly through your hands to his heart, stitching together the physical wound. Beneath the blood, the pale, freckled skin stitches itself together, the punctured walls of his heart suturing back into the fissure it once was.

Another breath, a few more seconds of silence. Steve calls out your name, demanding to know what you’re doing through a cracked voice. Demanding for you to let him rest. You ignore him, beginning the challenge.

You gather up what energy you have left, and pump his heart manually so the blood and the oxygen in his body circulate to each organ in his body. You bring your other hand to his forehead, brushing back the long tendrils of dark hair and caressing his head in your arms as you work.

Your body begins to scream as your feel your life force leave through sparks of luminescent pale-gold energy. Each tendon in your body pulls and your chest feels like each cell of your spirit is being scraped from your center. You swallow, and persevere.

Bucky Barnes would not die on your watch. Not again.

Molasses-thick blood starts to drip from your nostrils, your body shaking from the effort while the gilded flares from your body flourish and come faster and faster. A determined growl leaves your throat as you steady yourself against his body.

Sam calls your name in warning, a worried tone coloring his voice. A choked cry leaves your throat, your lungs scorching all the way up to your esophagus. Your mind calls out for a God you haven’t believed in for 70 years, _praying_ and _begging_ and _wishing_ for this one thing; knowing deep down each litany is childish and small but you’re ready to be that and much more if it means reviving him.

Your eyes bleed as you work, and at this point, you know you can’t do it. It’s too much; you’ve never felt this kind of blaring, atom-deep, _agonizing_ pain. Your hands tremble uncontrollably and your posture droops. A stupid, hopeful part of you thinks that maybe you feel his heart swell on it’s own, and it gives you a moment’s comfort because your eyes ripple shut and your body sinks to the floor.

You’re already gone by the time Bucky gasps, a rush of air drawing his chest up and blowing his pupils wide.

Bucky immediately looks down at his chest, feels the wet-cold stickiness of blood there, and examines the circle shaped hole in his armor but fails to understand why his skin and body feels perfectly fine. Infact, his body feels better. He feels inexplicably _lighter._

Steve laughs, broken tears softening the edges of the sound and a relieved huff from Sam and Tony greeting him as well. He smiles confusedly at him, a thrum low throughout his body buzzing louder as the moment before his death returns to him.

Bucky finally seems to appreciate the weight of something against his lower back. The thrums change to bass-deep, crackling detonations at the pit of his stomach. He follows the weight, realizing it’s your leg, flung haphazardly against him. He turns, the thunder inside him rolling to a cold, dead, stop.

He almost doesn’t recognize you.

Blood trickles from your nostrils and tear ducts, new terror licking up his spine as he takes in the alarming pale-grey tone of your skin. His cadence is soft and small as he says your name once, a hand latching itself to your jaw so you can face him, fingers tucked underneath your ear and thumb over your cheek. He shakes your head, the skin cold to even him.

Your body provides no response, your slackened disposition only worrying him further. It takes him a bit of courage, but his brings a hand to your neck and digs the fingers in deep, trying for a pulse.

He doesn’t even know he’s holding his breath until two weak, barely-there beats stroke his fingertips. Bucky’s eyes fall shut in satisfaction, a tear managing to escape.

“We need a medic,” Bucky manages to choke out. The others nod, watching carefully as he scoops you up into his embrace with barely any effort at all, your head and legs hanging limp over the edges of his arms. He adjusts, rolling his shoulders until your head sits tucked against his chest, the warmth of his newly living body conducting heat to you, if only for an instant.

* * *

The first day, Bucky doesn’t have a single doubt in his mind you’ll wake up.

On the quinjet home, Bucky’s mind catches up to him. He wonders for a minute about your future, staring down at your pliant form and doesn’t even consider for a minute that you won’t be okay. You were a survivor. He barely registers the others telling him about the spectacular way Lafayette had met his demise-- _‘She didn’t even look at him! Never seen anything like it before,’_ Sam says in awe.

They contact Alyssa on the way, and by the time they get back, she’s waiting outside the compound looking beyond fuming. She bares her teeth as Bucky approaches, but says nothing until he delivers you to Helen and her team of doctors. The shoo Bucky and the others away.

“Alyssa…” Bucky begins with a sigh, running a hand through his sweat-tangled hair.

“What the _fuck_ did you do?!” She growls. Bucky goes to raise his hands in surrender, but she shoves him back violently before he can speak. “I swear to God if she doesn’t wake up...”

“Whoa, hey,” He says. She seethes in response. “You’re the one who told me how strong and capable she was, right? She’s gonna be fine.”

“That is dangerously arrogant, Sergeant,” She hisses at him. “She’s not some- some necromancer. And, she’s certainly never raised a super-soldier from death’s clutches before. Her body can only take so much. I have every right to be furious.” Despite Alyssa’s words, the gravity of the situation doesn’t seem to sink in. The last time you were in the tower, you were unconscious for nearly 2 days before you woke up. As far as he knew, you just needed time. Bucky shakes his head.

“She’s alive.” He says, and his voice tells Alyssa there’s going to be no argument beyond that. “She’ll be fine.”

Bucky ends up eating his words.

Two nights pass before Bucky has his first vision. At first it’s no different from the dreams he usually has. He has nightmares like every other person in the tower; not always, but often. But, this one is so vivid, it feels more like a memory rather than his brain regulating high activity during his REM stage. Of course, most of his dreams are recollections of the unmistakable pain he had felt when he was in HYDRA, but this… this is something else. It feels hazy but clear; ordinary but alien all at once.

A tiny dog howls in pain in front of him, it’s matted fur and large, pleading eyes making something pull in his chest as he watches the scene unfold. He feels himself look up, his conscious brain on red alert as he realizes it’s Lafayette; gesturing to the dog’s twisted paw.

He watches a hand make it’s way to the dog’s leg, not recognizing it as his own. A familiar aorus light expands from the hand, and he feels it. He feels the sensations as he were looking down at himself, chest aching with the owner’s confusion and surprise as he realizes this is the very first time your powers were put into use. He finally understood what he was watching.

The following nights bring him more memories he can’t remember, because he knows they don’t belong to him. Every night it’s the same; he wakes up with a hollow feeling in his chest, goes to check on you in the infirmary, and drinks a glass of water before returning to bed. _Routine is important,_ Steve had told him.

Until the 12th night. And then, well… _And then._

He sees himself through your memories- back to a time where he has difficulty recognizing himself. But, he remembers you; remembers the night at Coney Island, the cool night and your weight and softness in his embrace.

 _“It’s over, doll, you’re safe, you’re alright.”_ He hears himself say, face buried into the billowy masses of your hair. _“You did absolutely amazing, y’know that?”_

His mind feels the way your heart had stuttered, warmth spreading from your neck where he had placed a comforting kiss, all the way to your wriggling toes. Catches the almost innocent, kittenish whimper of yours that had escaped in response, the one that he remembers unwillingly replaying in his head too many times. He watches the way the old Bucky had held your gaze, worried and comforting. His current, sleeping body smiles in melancholia at the way you remembered it; the scene a warm, rose-tinted fantasy.

He has the decency to feel guilty as he catches every unadulterated thought of yours, most of them focused on his lips and how you had wished to capture them in yours. Bucky thrashes in his sleep, clearly displeased at his past self for not moving forward a god-forsaken two inches.

Every festive light flared and outside noise became muffled as he watched his past self stroke your hip, not breaking his stare for a second. Sleeping Bucky’s heart almost cries, seeing your bashful reflection in the blues of his eyes, and hearing the onslaught of self-deprecating thoughts that penetrate your mind. Each small, burrowing insecurity that makes his body fist the material of his bedsheets, clutching so tight that he nearly tears the egyptian cotton. He wishes could stare daggers at the old Bucky-- wishing his younger self knew to pull you closer, to not let you go even when the ferris wheel began moving again.

Bucky wakes up, bathed in a cold sweat and chest heaving as if he’d ran a lap around the city. He wipes at his eyes, not entirely sure why he was crying. He can’t help but feel like time had run out; back then and now.

For the first time, he considers the possibility that you might never open your eyes again.

The thudding in his chest ignites into charred embers, blazing toward his ribcage. The tears flow faster unwillingly, and he gasps, trying to put out the flames licking against his lungs but the oxygen only combusts the pain.

You might have given your life… saving him.

 

> _I got a fear, oh in my blood  
>  She was carried up into the clouds, high above_

He makes himself small, draws in his shoulders and ducks his head like he’s trying real hard not to shake. An overwhelming feeling of inadequacy consumes him, swirled in with guilt and affection and love for you and hatred for himself. Gasoline douses the blistering inferno in his chest.

 

> _Does she know that we bleed the same?  
>  Don’t wanna cry but I break that way_

He flings back the covers and finds himself rushing to you, urgency in his veins as though he would die if he didn’t see you that instant.

 

> _I am searching high,_  
>  _I’m searching low in the night_

Bucky’s not sure what he expected, air in his lungs deflating when he sees your eyes closed and your body unmoving. His stomach suddenly growls, and he wonders briefly in embarrassment if you can hear him. He’s certainly glad you can’t _see_ him; tears streaking his face, greasy hair pulled low, and dark circles practically paying rent from under his eyes. Hasn’t eaten properly in days, hasn’t showered for even longer.

He takes a seat, clasping one of your hands between his. Places a kiss onto your knuckles, strokes your wrist softly with his thumb.

 

> _Cold bones, yeah that’s my love  
>  She hides away, like a ghost_

“We won,” He croaks, wincing at the way the sound scratches roughly against his vocal chords. “We did it, but I can’t find you. Where’d ya go, sweetheart? How can we celebrate without the woman of the hour?” He takes a steadying breath. 

 

> _Did she run away, I don’t know  
>  If she ran away, come back home  
>  Just come home_

“The new DIVISION needs you. Alyssa’s practically goin’ crazy without you. Hell, even Sam needs you.” He says, trying to keep his tone light but his voice breaks down. “ _I_ need you." 

 

> _Cold sheets, but where’s my love?_

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he feels a prodding finger at his shoulder. Bucky jolts awake, blinking the sleep away from his eyes and looking up at the offender, which he finds rather hard as he adjusts to the brilliant infirmary that wasn’t saturated in morning light when he went to sleep.

“Man, if I was Y/N and you looked like that, I wouldn’t wanna wake up either,” Sam says, wrinkling his nose and gesturing towards Bucky’s body. He frowns and Sam’s tone softens in response. “C’mon, I actually left you some hot water this time. Get cleaned up, Steve made breakfast.” Bucky’s frown deepens.

“M’not hungry,” Bucky pouts. His body chooses that second to betray him, his stomach growling loudly. Sam cracks a small smile.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Sam promises, patting Bucky’s shoulder comfortingly. “A quick shower and some food and you can come back.” He turns, ready to walk, hoping Bucky will follow.

“What if she’s gone,” Bucky whispers suddenly. He won’t look at Sam. “It’s my fau-”

“It’s not your fault.” Sam says firmly before Bucky can even finish. “She made a choice while you were _dead._ You’re not to blame for this, and she isn’t either.”

“But, it’s--”

“Nope.” Sam holds up a hand to stop him. “See what kinds of crazy you talk when you don’t have any food in you?” Bucky just shrugs and does that thing where he tightly constrains his body together and pretends to disappear. Sam has to coax him out of the chair, and guide him gently to the shower.

* * *

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Steve,” Sam whispers between sips of coffee. Steve huffs exasperatedly.

“He needs this,” Steve hisses back. “He can’t keep moping around the tower until he’s a pile of bones. Getting out into the field could be good for him.”

“Or it could be a disaster,” Sam replies. “He could get distracted and risk all of your lives. He’s not… he’s not at 100 perfect right now.”

“I can hear you,” Bucky grumbles as he walks in, looking freshly cleaned with the scent of aftershave trailing behind him. Steve and Sam perk up at this, eagerly awaiting his answer. He pours himself a cup of coffee. “No way. I’m not leaving.”

“Buck,” Steve berates almost instantly, drowning out Sam’s relieved sigh. “Think about this.”

“I am,” He says simply. A sense of déjà vu fills him; leaving you when you need him most to go fight a battle? It all feels too dreadfully familiar. “What if she wakes up while I’m gone?”

“The doctors would let you know right away, and I would clear you to return immediately. And, besides, this will be a quick mission. Just a couple of days and we’ll be back home.” Steve tries his best to sell Bucky on the idea, but judging by the weary look on his face, Bucky’s not too keen on it. “This could _help_. You’ll get some time to clear your head and blow off some steam, and--”

“Alright, how about giving him some time to think?” Sam suggests, staring pointedly at Steve, who sighs and backs off. Bucky shoots Sam a grateful look.

“Me and a couple others leave at midnight if you change your mind,” Steve says, grabbing his dark roast and fleeing the scene. Bucky takes a seat at the counter and begins to scarf down the breakfast laid out for him. Sam watches quietly, seemingly assessing him.

“M’not a tickin’ time bomb,” Bucky mutters. Sam looks up in surprise. “Soldier’s outta my head, but Steve still just…” He stops and sighs. “His heart’s in the right place, but he ain’t gotta… do all that.”

“I get it, man.” Sam nods. “Guess the only thing you can do is understand that Steve’s trying. More importantly, though, do what you want. Not what Steve wants you to do, not what I want you do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. He doesn’t stop chewing. “You’re right.”

“That’s gross, dude,” Sam says with a shake of his head. “Close your fucking mouth.” Bucky childishly smacks the food even louder against the roof of his mouth and starts babbling nonsense as he does. Sam laughs and flings a napkin at him.

* * *

Bucky surprises even himself when he decides to go. As overbearing as Steve could be sometimes, he also had a point. Bucky can’t do anything to help you, and the thought drives him crazy. He has to be at a place where he can at least help others.

Steve almost chokes when he sees Bucky step onto the quinjet later that night. Bucky says nothing-- gives him a small smile in greeting and begins strapping the chest armor he used in the field. Steve recovers quickly though, and pats the empty seat next to him.

Bucky takes it.

* * *

 

The mission turned out to take a lot longer than a few days.

Complications were commonplace during the entirety of the two weeks Bucky and the others were gone, resulting in a longer and longer time necessary for them to stay across the country.

To his disappointment, no phone call came from Helen or her team, meaning you were still in your sleeping state. The thought also stirs a selfish, satisfied part of him that wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up. He also had more visions, scattered shards of your life placing themselves into a beautiful mosaic in his mind’s eye.

Alyssa has been steadily supplying him with daily information about her progress with DIVISION upkeep; getting a new lease signed, appointing new leaders, restoring important history. She seemed to have calmed a week into the mission, recognizing Bucky wasn’t to blame, and making him a part of the bigger decisions that went into reestablishing the organization.

Natasha tells him something about rifling and her weapons as they step off of the quinjets and make their way to the common room. He’s half-listening, half wondering what it would be like if he were to go see you and you were to awaken. He knows these fantasies are foolish and fruitless, but they provide the little bit of comfort he needs to keep himself going. Despite his murmuring sounds of agreement every few minutes, he thinks Natasha knows he’s zoned out.

He takes the stairs two at a time, eager to put his things away. He can hear Alyssa talking about something related to DIVISION, knowing she liked to take up residence at the compound a lot since the incident. Sam replies enthusiastically to one of her ideas, and Bucky smirks when he walks up and sees a sitting Alyssa looking at a blueprint with Sam draped over her back as they study the paper together.

 _Gotcha,_ He thinks. He clears his throat; expects Sam to scramble away in embarrassment at being caught in such a suggestive position, but is baffled by Sam’s answering smirk as he moves away and reveals something behind him.

_You._

You, in your freshly-shampooed, striped pajama-clad, innocent-eyed glory. His heart comes to a full stop, then beats twice as fast when you turn your face and lock eyes with him. You look like a goddamned renaissance painting, the kind Steve liked to gush about even back in the 40’s. But he knows not even the masters; neither Brunelleschi or Donatello could ever do you justice. Not your halo of air-fluffed hair, not the high color in your cheeks that isn’t pink nor red, not the way you look at him like he’s something worth seeing.

Everything falls into place. Your souls, despite already having merged, reach out for each other.

To his horror, you start crying. Bucky inhales sharply, broken out of his trance as he flings his things aside and charges over to you in three quick strides. He gathers you up into his arms and simply _presses_ you to him.

He has to draw you up a few inches to meet his height, has to anchor an arm at your waist and clasp one at the back of your neck so your head can settle into the curve of his shoulder. A violent shudder escapes you as you cry harder and practically engulf him into your embrace.

Soft kisses are placed into your hairline, making you clutch him tighter in response. He smells like sweat and gunpowder and determination and affection and joy and half of those things aren’t even scents but it doesn’t matter because his touch incites all of it inside you anyway.

“ _God,_ ” He practically prays into your ears, taking a long steadying breath. “ _You’re alive._ ” You laugh at the irony of it, blinking away tears.

“ _You’re alive._ ” It doesn’t matter that you’ve known since you woke up, because knowing was one thing, and being surrounded by all of him was another.

He’s so _warm,_ and the way he cradles you makes you feel invincible because how can anything ever touch you when the two of you are like this? When your spirits have surged together like your bodies?

Bucky knows, from that moment on, there is no letting go of you. Not by him.

He doesn’t tell you that you were the singular thing that kept him fighting, just like you did 70 years ago on the German battlefront. Doesn’t tell you the only reason he fears death now is because he trembles at the thought of losing a second chance with you in his life. Hopes you can feel it in the way he envelops you like you were the only thing missing from making him utterly, wholly, complete.

You look up at him when he lets go, glossy eyes canopied by thick, wet lashes and your skin warms beautifully when he swipes his thumb across your cheeks to chase away the tears. You sniffle, pawing at your nose, and Bucky thinks it’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life.

He has to clamp his mouth shut before he does something stupid like confess his undying love for you. He forces himself to give you some space, isn't sure if you're quite ready for all that yet, isn’t even sure you want him anymore.

Neither of you realize everyone else has vacated the room with a prompting of silent signals from Sam, until you pull away and look around. Bucky seems relieved at this, taking your hands and sitting you down on one of the sofas.

“When did you…? I- I mean how did’ya--”

“A week ago,” You say, already expecting the dark look that crosses his face.

“I was supposed t’know as soon as you woke up!” Bucky whines, already plotting petty revenge against whoever had stood in his way. He starts mumbling crankily to himself, getting all worked up about it like an angry cat. You laugh a little, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

“These past few days were hard, James, I mean-- I was barely human. I didn’t want anyone seeing me like this, much less you.” You begin, knowing he’d want an explanation. He cocks his head, not understanding what you meant. “When I woke up… I could barely move. Couldn’t speak, could only cry and make noises. It’s like I had to teach myself how to be a person again.” Your words make his chest clench, gnawing at his lip as he thinks about the fact that he could’ve been here, helping you with it. Where you needed him. “When Helen mentioned calling you, I managed to convince her not to.”

“I could’a… If you’d let her call…”

“I know, Buck. I know.” You nod, holding his hand a little tighter. He ducks his head and looks up at you through his eyelashes and you have to hold in a sigh. There were a lot of things that changed about him; the breadth of his shoulders, the contours of his face, the length of his hair. But, his eyes, a luminescent blue and crisp and _vast_ , were exactly as you remembered them.

Bucky huffs, shaking his head. He takes his hands, cups your face tenderly and rests his forehead against yours. He lets out a long breath.

“What were ya thinkin’, sweetheart?” He rasps, shaking his head a little. “Almost dyin’ for me. Why would--” He stops, takes another breath like even talking about it is too much. A low, uhappy snarl makes it’s way from your throat, disbelieving of the fact that he thinks so lowly of his worth.

“I was _thinking_ , that your life is too important to lose because of a fight that wasn’t even yours to begin with. Too important for me not to give my all.”

“What if you’d died?” His voice falters and cracks a little. He squeezes his eyes shut and strokes your face like he can’t bear the thought of it. You’re not sure what to say, so you just just hold onto his hands tighter, rubbing at the juncture between his thumb and forefinger. His hands go loose and slack against your face. You smile weakly, trying to be comforting.

A voice clearing itself breaks you both out of the moment, whipping your heads to the see who it was. Bucky is none too pleased to find Tony at the doorway, arms crossed and weight propped against the frame with a knowing grin on his face. You clear your throat and put more space between you and Bucky, knowing you’ve failed miserably at trying to be nonchalant.

“Hey kiddos,” Tony greets, voice curling up at the end as he practically sings the words. “Come join us downstairs when the two of you are done… canoodling. We’ve got plans to discuss.” He twirls his pointer finger at you suggestively as he speaks. 

Bucky rolls his eyes while you brave past the embarrassment to follow Tony down to where they all had set up camp. Bucky does little jog to catch up to you, threading his fingers through yours as you walk.

You would be lying to yourself if you said the action didn’t make you smile, already knowing Alyssa is going to never let you hear the end of it if you stride into the room hand-in-hand, if the giddy look on her face is anything to go by. She stands at the front of the room and delivers a not-so-subtle but well-meaning thumbs up to you. 

You give a small smile to Bucky and leave to go stand with Alyssa. You listen intently as she catches up the crowd about the whereabouts of DIVISION. You know all of this, staying silent until it is your turn to speak. 

When she finishes, she turns to you with a deep sigh and nods. 

“I, uh...” You start eloquently. You don’t feel at your most confident, certainly not in fluffy pajamas while some of the Avengers sit attentively with dirt-grimed uniforms and weapons. “I wanted to thank all of you for not only the last couple of weeks, but all of the help. I- quite literally- wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the unwavering faith you’ve all put in me. I know it seemed crazy at first, trusting the girl that tried to kill one of you, but I’m glad you did.” The room lights up with smiles and fond looks.

“But, now that I’m fully recovered, I think it’s time that I stop imposing upon you all. Alyssa and I have decided that it would be best if we found a place to live- an actual house instead of a fortress. We will, of course, accept any ideas and thoughts you have about DIVISION’s rebirth, but I think our plans for the future are just to get it established into what it was meant to be." You look down and purposefully avoid Bucky's eyes. "Think it’s time we go on our own way.”

Bucky looks dumbfounded by your words, staring at you like you’ve grown three heads. A few others mirror his expression on a less grand scale. 

“You can’t leave,” Bucky says, disbelieving and practically speechless. You open your mouth to reply but Sam beats you to it. 

“Yeah, what terminator said,” Sam pipes up. His eyes flit to Alyssa quickly before they return to yours. “You don’t have to force this, and you’re not imposing. This is a big tower, Y/N.”

“Sam, I don’t--”

“Don’t you think we should discuss this before you make these decisions?” Tony asks. “You’re a part of the family now.” 

The urge to cry happily returns as the others mumble in agreement, Steve’s voice silencing the room as he speaks. 

“Look, there are resources here. Now I don’t wanna speak too soon, but I don’t think you two have ever reestablished a millennia old, billion-dollar organization from the ground up. Especially not while house-hunting. This tower would work for you both, and I think I speak on behalf of the whole room when I say we’d hate to see you go so soon. You’d be fantastic for us too.” 

“You could be the sexy, in-house, nurse.” Tony suggests, doing crazy gestures with his hands to imitate you using your powers. You laugh despite yourself, giggling at Bucky’s unamused expression. “This is your decision, but take a little while to think about it, okay? _Please_.” 

You sigh, turning to Alyssa to see if she would weigh in. She shrugs, but does it with a smile.

“Think about the kids,” Tony says dejectedly, indicating towards the room full of- what was clearly- overgrown babies smiling hopefully up at you. You shake your head in fake exasperation. 

“Fine,” you concede. “ _Fine_. One week.”

“Great!” Tony cheers while the others whoop in the background. “Wouldn’t want you missing the celebratory, post-mission party, now would we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmk why I'm crying... It's been so long since I've written obvious romantic parts for this story, I'm squealing.
> 
> Again, all mistakes are my own. Please let me know if you enjoyed!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers teach you a thing or two about celebrating with flair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the official one-year anniversary of this story! Not for AO3, but for Tumblr. We can still celebrate here. :) 
> 
> Chapter 15 Playlist: [LOVE.](https://soundcloud.com/kendrick-lamar-music/love) \- Kendrick Lamar ft. Zacari | [I’ll Be Okay](https://soundcloud.com/ginsengxx/ill-be-okay-ft-velvetears) \- Gin$eng | [iT’s YoU](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1seDBXvGYcc) \- Zayn

“Hello?” Alyssa waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N!” You turn toward your friend with a jolt, warmth tiptoeing up your cheeks as you realize you had been caught red handed. She smirks, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair as she looks over at what had taken up your attention.

Bucky stands with Sam and Clint as they follow Steve’s lead and lift weights in front of their reflections. They were all decked out in the finest workout gear but for some totally unknown reason, your focus had tunnel visioned to Bucky in a muscle tee made of a distracting sky blue synthetic fiber. His black shorts, despite falling to his knees, boasted plentiful thighs and gave way muscular calves. Each supporting tendon in his body ripples like waves crashing into shore banks when he moves and you don’t realize you’re staring until Alyssa snaps you out of it.

“Alright…” Alyssa says with a knowing chuckle. “I’m not getting you to focus anymore today. Just bring down the files to Tony’s office when you’re done ogling the poor man.” 

You would have had the decency to deny her accusations or respond in some way, but you’re too busy watching the way his fingers curl around the glinting metal of the barbells. 

You both cursed and thanked Tony mentally for the office he’d graciously donated to you and Alyssa for the time being, which happened to be placed right next to the state-of-the-art gym. And, due to the floor-length, glass windows it contained, it was hard to get any work done.

Bucky was always handsome, that much is clear. It was part of the reason why so many girls flocked to him back in the 40’s; an innocent, clean shaven disposition juxtaposed with an impish smirk, mischievous eyes and an even more notorious reputation. Today however, he has more of a world-wearied, impossibly rugged, titanic aura about him that-- seemingly against all odds-- makes him even more desirable.

The last time you had worried about such, almost trivial, things was before you had ever heard of DIVISION. Things that make your stomach flutter and breath stutter; things like the way he grunts when he slams down the weights onto the floor with a determined look on his face. It feels inappropriate, almost. Like there are more important things that demand your attention, but the truth is… there isn’t. It feels strange because such emotions had been wicked and programmed away from your personality so effectively that reaching out to it after so long feels nothing short of foreign.

As if he possesses a sixth sense, Bucky looks up in a flash and meets your eyes in the mirror. You outright yelp and  _cringe_ as you look down and pretend to busy yourself with the folder in your hands. Bucky cocks his head with a confused smile as he watches you swallow and squirm in your seat through the mirror in front of him.

As if to assess the damage, you look up a minute or two later, knowing his attention had to have drifted back to his workout by now. But to your horror, he’s still watching you with glinting eyes. When your eyes touch, he smiles sweetly with his entire face. The action calms you and you raise your fingers in a shy twirl of your fingers. He grins even wider, stops his deadlifts to  _grab the bar with one hand_ , and raises his metal fingers in a cute little wave that tucks itself right into your heart alongside that boyish, bright-eyed, and dreamy smile.

Sam suddenly knocks Bucky on the shoulder with his own, huffing at him like he’s an idiot.

“Dude,” Sam says with the annoyance of an older brother. “She’s checking you out.  _Flex_.” Bucky’s eyes widen at the command, but he finds himself doing it anyway.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god,” Sam says with a groan, bringing a hand up to rub at his face like he can’t believe he has to explain it to Bucky. “ _Look_  at her, jesus.” It finally clicks. True to his word, when the duo look up at you, there’s an undeniable heat behind your eyes. You bite your cheeks in embarrassment and flick your gaze away, like you’re ashamed of looking.

Bucky _likes_ you looking; wishes you would be  _touching._

He watches you as you quickly gather your things and scurry out of the room. He smiles softly, lips curling up a dopey little grin. There’s something awfully familiar about the way you look at him.

Bucky continues his late-night workout with the duo for another hour before waving goodnight to them and making his way to room for some sleep, knowing Steve liked to get in his cardio bright and early. He has every intention of plopping onto his bed, and knocking out for a good six hours until he hears the most gentle, melodic notes trickle through the elevators as he travels up one of the floors.

He reaches his floor but doesn’t exit, instead pressing the button for the floor he had heard the music emanating from. As he walks closer, he realizes it’s coming from the ballroom where Tony keeps his obscenely large grand piano. He makes his steps softer so no one can detect his presence as he enters the room to investigate.

He’s luckily able to hide his shock when he sees you sitting on the bench, fingers gliding over the ivory keys hypnotizingly while you hum along to the tune. It’s nothing elaborate, just a sophisticated little ballad that makes his blood flow just a little slower and makes his eyelids droop in contentment. He leans against the doorframe and appreciates the music for a little while, taking in the soft disposition of your shoulders, the intricate movements of your fluid fingers, the slight sway of your body to the hymn.

“I used t’think there’s little that can shock me now,” Bucky says, matter-of-factly. You turn to him, wide-eyed and sheepish, gliding your fingers away from the keys. “But, ever since you’ve… returned, I’ve been finding out exactly how untrue that is.”

“It’s not polite to sneak up on a person, you know,” You chide without any real seriousness, turning back to the piano and fighting to keep a smile off of your face as you hear his footsteps approaching closer. He takes a seat next to you on the smooth, obsidian bench and makes a point of lining up his thigh with his yours.

He looks at you. You keep your gaze on the keys in front of you.

“How’d ya learn?” He asks casually after a long moment of silence. He studies you, his extra-fortified lungs pumped full of super-soldier serum completely failing him as he watches a nostalgic smile grow on your face, the kind that makes your eyes sparkle and shoulders sag.

“When I… first began going on missions, I wasn’t exactly the most confident or outgoing. When I had to blend in at fancy parties to gather intel, I always felt very out of place. And, then one day.. I saw this beautiful woman sitting at a piano, playing her heart out, practically invisible among the flashy partygoers. She was playing tirelessly, performing these torturously complex tunes-- one after another. I had two thoughts.” You hold up two fingers. “One; how does she do it? Be so amazing and make it look so simply effortless? And two: How the  _hell_ do her fingers not hurt?”

Bucky blinks, and then laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach and double over. You grin.

“I think I fell in love with the idea of her a little.” You continue. “Talented, observant, beautiful. So, little by little, I began to learn how to play. To DIVISION, I was just practicing a technique that would allow me to blend in, but in reality, I thought that somehow by emulating her, I could have a little reprieve from being DIVISION’s biggest asset. I didn’t really have many opportunities for fantasies, but almost every party had a piano available. And, from the moment my fingers touched the keys, I was allowed to be just another girl at just another party.”

“Who was she?” He asks softly, something akin to awe in his eyes.

“I… don’t know, actually,” You reply with a little laugh. “Figured that was best left alone. You saw her though. On that rooftop, I took on her appearance.” Bucky smiles. He places his hands on top of the keys, next to yours.

“Will ya teach me how to play?” He asks hopefully. You cock an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, old man. This might be a little advanced for you.” Bucky chuckles in disbelief.

“You’re just as old as I am, sweetheart.” A smirk follows the nickname, the kind that makes his face look as young and wickedly mischievous as it used to. “How old are you now, anyway?” You gasp scandalously, eyes glowing in mirth. 

“James Buchanan! Don’t you know to never ask a lady her age!” You scold, unable to keep a straight face. “Shame on you!”

“S’ok, dollface.” He says. “Always had a thing for older gals anyway.” You laugh at his ridiculousness, rolling your eyes a little. Once the laughter subsides, he leans a little closer. Studies your face like he might forget what you look like if he looks away for even a moment.

You really, really want to kiss his big, dumb face.

But, you remember how easy it is to get swept up into him. You retreat from him a little, looking down and away.

This isn’t 40’s Brooklyn anymore. The circumstances were different, he was different, _you_  were different. You don’t know if his feelings are genuine, or if he’s just feeling nostalgic. Maybe after HYDRA, he just wants someone to be with, and you happened to be the first woman available. 

This is a big, post-nuclear, headache. 

Kissing him would be— be ill-timed, and confusing, and… a whole mess of other things you’re not prepared for. You have no right to be selfish with him; you’d both been through hell and back. He needs someone lighter, easier, that can take away his pain rather than add to it. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, breaking you out of your thought. “Lost you for a second there.” You stared at him, ruminating on your previous thoughts.

“I need to go,” You said suddenly, up and out of your seat in under a second, ready to leave until Bucky captures your wrist. He stares at you worriedly, but you wiggle your wrist free without explanation. “I’ll teach you some other time.”

Your feet quickly carry you out of the room before he can get another word in.

 

 

* * *

  

If it was up to you, you would have left already.

There’s something about shopping that stresses you out. For the past 70 years, you had been supplied with your clothes and making choices had been next to impossible, but staring into the rows of decadent luxe fabrics now, glimmering and beckoning, makes you feel overwhelmed. You know nothing of satins or silks and immediately look to Alyssa, Wanda, and Sharon for help. 

The three had kindly offered to help you in search of something to wear for Tony’s celebration. You had not met Sharon previously, and you saw an opportunity to get to know her through this trip. However, her presence had done little to calm you. You would feel more composed if it wasn’t the event of your official reintroduction. The Avengers had all decided this would be the best time to establish you into society as a ‘normal’ citizen with the privileges that came with being one.

“Looking your best means feeling your best,” Sharon begins, rifling through the sparkling gowns hung on the suede lined racks, the light reflecting from the crystal chandelier on the ceiling and making each dress glow in the afternoon sunlight. “I can guarantee there will be lots of reporters with cameras and double the amount of questions. Answering them will be a lot easier if you’re confident in how you feel.” You supposed there was merit to the words.

“Can we take a look at the Georges Hobeika prêt-à-porter Spring collection please?” Wanda asked one of the employees hovering by. She smiled warmly and nodded, leading your trio to the collection. The three of you began to look, awed by the intricate detail that resembled nature in it’s own right. Alyssa nudged you lightly.

“See anything you like?”

“I… uh…” You stare down at the shimmering pieces, unsure what to make of it all. “Maybe something safe. Do you have anything in gold?” The woman barks out a laugh.

“Do we?” She snickers some more. “Come.” She accompanies you to panels upon panels of lavish dresses, each gilded and glowing underneath the show lights. “How about this?” 

You have no choice as you are ushered into a room with a bright yellow[ dress ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/38/18/cb/3818cba041d131985213efd622780c3c--bronze-dress-padm%C3%A9-amidala.jpg)with long, flared, sleeves completed with elaborate beads that probably cost the same as a small island. You feel a little ridiculous as you observe yourself in the dressing room mirror, feeling like a little girl that had no right trying on her mother’s dresses. 

“Maybe something a little more… classic.” You suggest with a small laugh, stepping out to show the girls and holding out your arms; wiggling them so the fabric sways with the wind. The trio giggle at your antics and the employee watching closeby nods understandingly with a smile. 

“I’ve got just the thing.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Ahh!” You hear Wanda yelp as she burns her finger with her sleek, ceramic flat iron. The others look over in concern at her, as she shakes it vigorously and hisses.

“You alright, Wan?” Natasha asks, eyebrows floating up in concern. She nods, but the pout on her face gives her away. You flutter your fingers in her direction, the redness on her fingertips fading as you draw the pain from her. Wanda laughs a little in surprise.

“That’s amazing,” She says, studying her hands and staring in wonder as if expecting her wound to return. “Thank you.” You wave her gratitude away, smiling and returning to the array of makeup in front of you.

“Looks like we’ve got two witches in the house these days,” Sharon calls from behind her makeup sponge. “Wouldn’t wanna get onto either of your bad sides.” You and Wanda both laugh a little at her comment when Natasha pipes up.

“Who would win if you two were up against one another, anyway?” She inquires curiously. You look to Wanda, who shrugs.

“Probably Wanda,” You reply truthfully, to which Wanda gapes. “I’d be flung halfway across the Atlantic before I could move.”

“I saw you in action that day at the DIVISION building,” Wanda counters, turning her head to the side to brush something shimmery and pink onto the plateau of her cheekbone. “You could literally make me combust spontaneously.”

“The unstoppable force meets the immovable object?” Alyssa suggests.

“Exactly.” The entire room bursts into giggles, any unease dissipating between the light, tinkling laughter of the women. The room brightens with the sound. Something soft and mushy settles into your chest; you have _friends_. People you trust and have the ability to laugh with. A small thing you didn’t know you needed-- until now.

You study Wanda as she turns her head side-to-side in the mirror, the glimmering powder catching the light of the room just right. She grins as she meets your eyes.

“You may not need the contour or the false lashes, but I don’t think any human has the ability to glow quite like this. Will you put some on?” She begs a little, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. You roll your eyes good-naturedly, like Wanda Maximoff is the hardest person to deal with on the planet.

You had refused makeup at first because your powers allowed you to change your appearance to your liking, until you realized it was more than just looking a certain way. The others seemed to regard it as an art when you allowed them to paint your eyelids to match your dress and draw on a thin line of ink that made your eyes vixen-like and drew them out for miles.

Wanda grabs a different, square compact and holds it out in offering. You brush your fingertips over the pigment a few times, before copying what Wanda had done.

(You’ll admit it… it is rather amusing to watch your skin radiate light. It was like your powers were coming alive inside you.)

“Alright, ladies,” Natasha calls with a smirk, putting down the rounded curling iron that had been in her hands. “I think it’s time to suit up.”

 

 

* * *

  

“Alyssa, no more!” You insist for the 30th time since you’ve put on your dress, but she ignores you, grinning and snapping another photo with a new camera that she had gotten her hands on. You suspect Sam is the culprit, remembering him sneaking a three-legged stand into the tower earlier in the day.

“Oh, but you look so beautiful!” She insists, the flashes going off over and over as if Alyssa herself doesn’t look like a show-stopper. A long-sleeved, crimson red [dress](http://cdn.georgeshobeika.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/GEORGES-HOBEIKA-RTW-FW-16_17-look30-636x954.jpg) adorns her body all the way down to her ankles, a sheer material on her torso giving way to glimmering rubies and ornate designs on the skirt.

You pluck the camera from her hands, and flip it so the lens faces her, and attempt to take a few pictures of your own. Alyssa heaves a big sigh, trying to seem annoyed when Natasha and Wanda sneak behind her. The redhead pouts dramatically while Wanda extends two fingers behind Alyssa’s head with an all-too-satisfied smile. You stifle your laughter as you take a few different pictures.

“Oh my god!” Sharon exclaims, as she finally exits her room. “You look like Cinderella!” Her gushing makes you lower the camera with a blush, doing a little twirl for her upon her insistence.

The dress _did_  make you feel like royalty, a pretty satin piece in a soft periwinkle that was reminiscent of the famous, blonde Disney princess. The gold you had requested was in the labyrinthine but sophisticated patterns running along the fabric, blindingly luminescent if you stood under the right kind of light. It made you float a little.

The sweetheart neckline and classic cut made it somewhat familiar, but truthfully, never had you worn such a[ dress](https://68.media.tumblr.com/7bd02aa8548a1d7609868f86a5abfdaa/tumblr_ouqkswhyZk1uhwb5qo1_1280.png) before. Not even when you’d been supplied with the finest couture during your undercover missions.

“Okay, okay, we have to get going,” You insist, handing the camera back over to your best friend. She mouths a _thank you_  as she takes it back, much like a protective mother taking her child back from a stranger’s greasy clutches. “I’ve been listening to people open champagne bottles downstairs for the last half-hour.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being fashionably late?” Natasha asks, the question accompanied by a charming smile. She holds out an arm in offering.

You take it with a deep breath and a nervous smile, allowing her to lead you all to the ballroom.

 

 

* * *

 

You’re not sure what you should’ve expected. Walking into a room arm-in-arm with the Black Widow herself?

Murmurs instantly fill the room, half the men in the room entranced by the gorgeous woman next to you. Everybody else wonders who the hell you must be, and when they see Alyssa step out with Sharon and Wanda, the murmurs turn to her as well. You’re a bit frozen, trapped and unsure of what you should do. You could hear it all.

You look out into the crowd of people, spotting Clint who waves at Natasha and then you, along a few others including Steve who smiles encouragingly. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth, unable to find Bucky in the sea of people. A part of you realizes that maybe Bucky wouldn’t want to come to an affair like this anyway, disappointment flooding your chest, even though it was probably for the best. He wasn’t yours; you had no right to desire his presence. 

Your quick moment of fame is over when another beautiful woman enters, with a dress that was likely more expensive and more in-style than yours. You let out a relieved laugh as you step off the grand staircase, watching Natasha smile knowingly.

“The worst of it is over,” She assures you, patting your arm to let you know you would be okay. You give her a grateful smile, and then on impulse: a hug. “Your interview will be in a little bit. The questions may be hard but Tony and I have vetted them and the reporters asking them. I promise it won’t be anything you can’t handle-- a private and painless meeting.”

 _“Thank you.”_  She smiles.

“Go mingle. You deserve it.” Natasha lets you know she will be at the bar if you need her. You nod gently, smiling as you watch her strut towards the shelves of sumptuous liquors. You finally feel a little more confident, feeling like maybe your heart wouldn’t explode right out of your ribcage. You look around and take in everything from the gentle jazz to the dim room luminescent with the lavish crystal lights to the abundance of beautiful people like Thor and Bucky, standing next to--

_Wait._

You widen your eyes, suddenly feeling overexposed and like your heart was ready to fall through the layers of bone and skin and muscle protecting the vascular organ…  _again_. You swallow, finally understanding why you hadn’t recognized the duo among the crowd.

Bucky had changed almost  _completely._

He must’ve gotten a haircut earlier in the day, his hair now much shorter than it had been before. The style is messy and on-trend in an endearing cut that brings out his handsome face and bright eyes. It’s so similar to the hair he had donned in the 40’s that you would probably be going to the hospital for coronary thrombosis if you didn’t have the ability to fix it yourself.

But, the thing was that he  _doesn’t_  look like 40’s Bucky. And, he certainly doesn’t look like the Winter Soldier either. He looks like someone new and flourishing in a [sharp, navy suit](http://akns-images.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/2017614/rs_790x1024-170714104811-634.Chris-Hemsworth-Sebastian-Stan-NY-Fashion-Week.ms.071417.jpg) and simple white tee.

He looks confident and happy, like he could grab a drink and schmooze with the who’s-who,  _easy._

He turns to Thor, who had also gotten a haircut and stood with a giant grin in a rich, midnight blue suit that was just a bit lighter than Bucky’s. Bucky whispers something to the Asgardian, making Thor nod and grin wider. He gives Bucky a friendly knock to the back, turns, and walks the other way.

You chew on your bottom lip as Bucky approaches, hands in his pockets casually and a slow swagger in his step that doesn’t quite match his shy gaze, staring at you through his long lashes. You smooth down the fabric of your dress, keeping your eyes cast downward.

“Hi,” You hear Bucky greet, a bit breathlessly.

“Hello…”

“You look absolutely beautiful.” He says without missing a beat. “ _Radiant._  I didn’t know angels were allowed to attend parties like this.” You laugh a little at how corny the line is. Flirtatious advances used to sprout from his mouth like water flowing from a fountain. Although to be fair, such behavior had never been directed towards you in the past.

You shake your head at the absurdity of it. Pining after Bucky when he wanted every other woman in Brooklyn, and trying to avoid him when all he wanted was you. Time never seemed to be on your side.

“Did you practice that on the way here?” You ask, getting a sheepish smile in return that was answer enough. “40’s Bucky would have much better lines.”

“40’s Bucky was a goddamn fool,” He replies back cooly. You raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t elaborate further.

“I don’t know… he wasn’t all bad.” You finally say, a coy look on your face. “He did teach me a few good moves.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, teeth bright and smile even brighter. He holds out a hand, and jerks his head towards the dance floor. “Let’s see ‘em.” You eye the outstretched hand wearily, unsure if you wanted to be in such close proximity with him again, just when you had promised yourself you would stay away.

“Come on,” He insists. “Y’owe me a dance.”  _That you did._

A little reluctantly, you slip your hand into his and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

A slow ballad plays as your bodies drifted along the smooth marble, arms entangled around each other. There was an placid silence as you both sway, uncomfortable at first but then changing as Bucky studies you. He seems to want to say something.

“Y/N?” He finally asks, voice timid and soft. You keep your gaze lowered, but acknowledge his call. “Can we talk?” You cringe internally at the three words, but nod. You would have to speak to him sooner or later, you couldn’t just freeze him out without explanation.

You begin to regret your decision to stay for the week more and more.

You follow him to the private patio upstairs. Bucky seems to like the privacy of the location for all his discussions, and you couldn’t complain— especially grateful for the absence of people. You settle next to the metal railing, looking out onto the streets first and then taking in the tall buildings, this time the myriad of lights glowing against the darkness of the night.

“Did I do something wrong?” Bucky presses gently, something like insecurity swimming in his eyes. Your heart breaks a little; your intention wasn’t to hurt him. You open your mouth to respond, but he continues. “For the past week, it seems like whenever I’m around, you would rather be anywhere else. I- I thought that-”

“Thought what?” You snap, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it does. He recoils a little, and you deflate. “What the hell are we doing? I’m tired of circling around this—  _us._ ” At this he finally smiles.

“Me  _too._ ” You sigh in frustration.

“No, Bucky,” You grip onto the railing for support. “I’m trying to say that- that I can’t be with you.” He looks at you like you’ve punched him in the stomach, and you hate him for it. Hate him for making it harder on you.

“You don’t... want me?” He questions, head cocked and eyes narrowed in hurt. The stars glare down at you and burn brighter, reflecting against the water brimming at his eyes. You groan into your hands; that’s not what you had said.

“What I want isn’t important,” You quickly add, averting your gaze for a second. “You don’t love me.” Bucky laughs wetly in response, a little relieved and a little disbelieving. He wipes at the stray tear on his face.

“Where’d ya hear that?”

“You think you do.” You finally admit. He cocks his head. “I’ve thought about this, okay? You didn’t even like me in the 40’s! When you finally saw me again— after all these years— I think I sparked some happy memories inside you and that has somehow manifested into you thinking you love me. But, you don’t. I just crossed your path at the right time, but I’m not the right person.” You voice gets quieter as you speak, less confident as you study the expression on his face. Something that transcends simple anger and incredulity.

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s pretty clear to me, Bucky,” You say, shrugging helplessly. Your voice has cracked. “And, even if I’m wholly wrong, and I’m also wrong for you. Relationships are… are supposed to be balanced. We both have been through so much… so much  _shit,_  I can’t possibly hope--” He interrupts you; calls your name.

“Why do you think I gave you that ring?” He questions, gesturing to the silver band slid along your finger. At your silence, he speaks up. “It was a precursor to more. It might have taken me a bit longer than you, but you have always been _it_ for me. Everytime I faltered on the battlefield, I thought of you and that ring. I thought… of replacing it with something that sparkled more.” You begin to cry too.

“Do you really think that what I feel for you is some- some delusion of grandeur? Our story mesmerizes  _time_. It crosses frontiers and outwits the temporal.” He waits for you to look at him, and when you do, he takes a step back. Seems to remember something. “If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a different story. I might be yours, but you don’t have to be mine.”

“You—” You sniffle, then swallow, deciding to change the subject and return to what he had said earlier. “You never told me that; about the ring. If I had known, I would have—”

“Would have what, Y/N?” He asks. His voice gains strength. “I was 5,000 miles away. You don’t know what to do with me when I’m 2 feet away from you.” He stares at you, challenge in his eyes and a lip between his teeth. You have no idea how he still has so much confidence and faith.

“I’m not the same person I was when you met me,” You say, almost like a warning. He smiles at you a little, eyes softening.

“Neither am I. But, if sitting with you on a piano bench at midnight can be the highlight of my week, I can promise you, I’m not looking for who you used to be.” He reveals. “I’m not sure how many more creative ways I can find to tell you I love you.”

You stare at him, mouth falling open. You shake your head in disbelief, a bit of shock coloring your face at his boldness.

“Y/N? The interviewers are ready for you,” Comes a voice from the entrance to the patio. It’s Natasha, who quickly apologizes when she notices the two of you in a moment. “Am I interrupting anything?” You dab discreetly at your eyes, before facing Natasha and shaking your head.

“No, no… I’ll be right there.” You give a final glance to Bucky who says nothing, face void of emotion. You mouth an apology and walk away, following Natasha to the meeting room. She says nothing at first, but is unable to keep herself from voicing her thoughts.

“I… heard the last part of what Bucky said,” She divulges sheepishly. “I thought you would be more excited about what he said. You two seem… well… I was just surprised by your reaction, is all. Can I ask why?”

“I just don’t know if I’m right for him anymore, is all.” You answer simply. “When it comes to someone like Bucky, I can’t be selfish if there’s someone better fit for him.”

“Better fit how?”

“I don’t know,”  _You do._  “Someone that has a past that’s different from ours, so they can elevate and inspire him. I don’t know if I can do that for him.” Natasha takes a moment to process your concerns, regarding your thoughts carefully.

“No offense, Y/N, but you’re about as dark and bitter as a disney princess,” She teases. This makes you smile as you nudge her in the hip. “Look, you can be a multi-faceted person. What you went through because of Lafayette is and always will be a part of who you are, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to dictate who you are and are going to be. You can’t give him that power.”

“That’s a lot easier said than done,” You whisper, as you two continue walking. She nods in agreement.

“It’s a process, but it’s not impossible. And it certainly doesn’t hurt to have someone by your side that loves you unconditionally to support you.” You notice Natasha doesn’t look at you as she says this. Instead, she waves to Bruce who’s across the room at the bar. He grins and waves back enthusiastically, salt-and-pepper curls bouncing as he does so. You gape at her.

“...You and Bruce?!” You grill her, unaware of this previously. She shrugs coyly but her smile says enough. When you press her for details, her resolve breaks and she begins to gush about his sweetness and what a duo they made. Between her stories and your constant outpour of  _aww’s_ , you’re both at the door to your destination before you realize it. You turn to her with a shaky smile, and Natasha squeezes your shoulder.

“We’ve all got ghosts, don’t you think?” She smiles comfortingly. “Bucky needs you, and as much as you may want to deny it, you need him too. You’re both at your best and the most yourselves when you’re with each other.”

You take a deep breath, open the door, and step inside.

The first 30 minutes are spent with you telling your story; starting from you being taken in your bedroom to the recent-most plans you had arranged for DIVISION with the help of Alyssa and the Avengers. When you finish, you’re surprised to see a range of emotions of the reporter's’ faces. Some are wiping away tears, while others look downright angry. You had assumed everyone would be on one side.

For the two hours that follow, you answer what feels like every question under the sun. Whether or not they’re good at hiding it, you can tell how afraid most of the reporters are. You can’t blame them either. One of the questions had been asking you to describe Lafayette’s death and you know no amount of assuring them that you’re not out to harm anyone is comfort enough.

“So, what now?” A middle aged woman asks suddenly. “We’re just supposed to feel safe with someone like you walking around? Where’s our guarantee that you aren’t going to have a bad day and kill everyone within a five-mile radius?” You inhaled sharply, shut your eyes for a moment.

“What happens now is that I am going to be restoring DIVISION into a scientific research center that specializes in everything from engineering to medicine. That’s where my efforts are going to be focused, and I will promise you that my powers will never harm anyone innocent. Should the Avengers request my help with any of their plans, I will be there. My word is your guarantee.”

A few more questions are asked before the crowd begins to disperse, lead to the exit by security guards. One of the older reporters raised their hand, asking permission to squeeze in one more question. You had already answered so many, you figure you might as well answer another one. You gesture towards them with a nod.

“The ring on your finger-- Are you married? Or were you ever married?” The reporter inquires. You laugh for a moment at the ridiculousness of it. Marriage was probably the last thing on your mind for as long as your could remember.

Until, earlier tonight, at least.

“Uh, no, I am not.” You answer, in an honest and straightforward response, not diving into the details of why you had the ring.

“So, there’s no one special?” The reporter continues with a raised eyebrow and a hopeful smirk on their lips. The question threw you for a loop.

_Special?_

You’re left speechless, staring out into the mass of people but your mind not registering any of it. The word triggers something inside you that has your thoughts moving too fast in your head and your heart beating too fast in your chest. You blink a few times, thinking back to Bucky on the rooftop previously in the night.

The windswept hair, the pleading look in his eyes, and that hopeful smile. Your lip quivers.

You give the crowd a quick smile, and then without explanation, you’re making your way off of the stage and darting as quickly as you can in your heels back to the ballroom. When you get there, however, you can’t find Bucky for the life of you. One person that you fortunately do find, is Sharon.

“Sharon!” You call, braving through the sea of bodies to get to her. She seems excited to see you, eyes lighting up, before she notices your frantic state.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong? Your hair is falling apart,” She warns you, tucking a tendril of loose hair behind your ear. You shake you head.

“Doesn’t matter,” You insist. “Have you seen Bucky?” Her face darkens at this.

“Poor thing looked pretty upset; said something about not feeling like celebrating anymore. Might’ve went to his room.” You feel worse at her revelation, but calmer now that you know where to look. You quickly thank Sharon, hike your dress up slightly, and scamper as quickly as you can to his room.

You knock exactly five times before you can hear the click of the lock, and suddenly in that second, you’re not prepared to see Bucky. The universe, evidently, does not give a shit about your preparation and greets your eyes with the sight of Bucky who had apparently decided to ditch the suit. All he wore were sweatpants and a frown.

“Sam, I told you I’m fine and—” He freezes once he sees you.

“I don’t want you to love anyone but me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I worked on this chapter for the longest time and that was part of the reason why it took me so long to update. It was stressing me out and I couldn’t get any writing done, which stressed me out even more. So, there are some parts that aren’t up to 100% but I promise I worked very hard on trying to get it to at least a 95%. <3 As always, I am open to constructive criticism!
> 
> 2) The “crosses frontiers and outwits the temporal” is from Edward Hirsch’s How To Read A Poem. It was too perfect to pass up. 
> 
> 3) The “I was 5,000 miles away. You don’t know what to do with me when I’m 2 feet away from you.” line was inspired by an episode of Quantico- let me know if you watch the show!
> 
> 4) Wanda was using the Diorskin Nude Air Luminizer in 002 PINK GLOW and she handed you the Burberry Fresh Glow highlighter in Nude Gold :) 
> 
> 5) DON’T BULLY ME I’M A SUCKER FOR GIRLS SUPPORTING GIRLS 
> 
> 6) there was more i wanted to say but i forgot... idk lmao sorry love you guys (maybe i’ll add later) 
> 
> 7) Unbeta'd as well. Will fix as I see mistakes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 Playlist: [Sad for You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXkuw7hdxw0) \- Njomza || [RENTAL](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZcgTCjzMCZc) \- BROCKHAMPTON || [Japanese Denim](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG2PgVl0Nlc) \- Daniel Caesar

The silence horrifies you. It hangs in the air, thick and pungent and you have an inexplicable urge to vomit. There is surprise in his eyes, but no trace of the softness and vulnerability that had painted his irises not an hour ago. He’s  _hurt_ \- though he has every right to be.

“Bucky…” You try to explain. You flail for a moment, trying one last time to find the right words. You want to reach out and fill your arms with all of him. “This time it was me who took too long to realize.” The way you’re looking at him opens up something raw inside him. Something orange, something that glows and has lived tucked away beneath his ribs all his life but right now you’ve tore him open right to his core, and  _god_  does he want you. But, he needs just a little more.

“To realize that—” You clear your throat. You straighten your shoulders and raise your head. There is so much-  _too_  much- in your life that you can’t know the outcome of. Too much that you’re uncertain about. And, you’ve never been as eloquent nor suave with your words as Bucky, but  _this,_ you want to make clear to Bucky that you’re sure of. “I love you too.”

Bucky resists.

Because you have this _pull_  towards him, something invisible but greater than himself considering he could be at the other end of the Earth, but if you called his name, his heart and his legs would follow without question. He would gladly spend the rest of his life hanging on your every word, but he can’t do any of it if you wanted him one second and not the next.

“Sweetheart, you can’t say that,” He says, voice soft and small. His eyebrows draw together, and there’s a certain wetness to his eyes that makes them glow underneath the hall lights. “Just an hour ago you were pushin’ me away and…”

“ _Bucky,_ ” Your tone is something akin to a whimper, voice cracking. It sounds almost like he doesn’t believe you, and your heart can’t take it. You draw your arms up and hold him underneath his jaw, tilting his face up and brushing featherlight strokes over his cheekbones.  “I’m sorry about the things I said, I didn’t mean them, I promise. I just–”

“Then, why the change o’heart?” His voice is still timid, almost fearful of your answer.

“My heart didn’t change,” You promise, smiling for him despite feeling tears brimming at your eyes. “Like I said, I just needed some time to realize how important you are to me. Sometimes, I can lose focus of the things that matter most, and you  _are_  one of them. You always have been.”

He can feel the impending joy pressing at him from all sides, taking a moment to take in your words. To make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him. Then, he takes another moment to truly take you in. Positively glowing in that ridiculous dress of yours that makes it impossible for him to take his eyes off of you, smelling so goddamn good, and smiling at him like he had personally brought you the moon on a silver platter.

His voice grows confident, and then? He laughs. Tears spill from his eyes, but Bucky just holds his stomach and _laughs._

“Well, you certainly took your time, didn’t ya baby?” He manages between his chortles. For some reason, you begin to chuckle right alongside with him, the tears now coming faster because of the laughter. Your hands shake against his neck as you laugh.

“I guess I did, huh?” You gasp out, burying your face into the warmth of his neck as you continue to giggle, his chest rumbling against your face. He brings his arms around your middle, hugging you close as you both laugh at absolutely nothing, the overwhelming elation pressing your bodies closer. Miles of soft, sun-bronzed skin wrap around you and distracted by all of it, you press a barely-there kiss against his collarbone.

He draws in a sharp breath at this, both of your giggles dying down. You detach yourself from his torso to look him in the eye, and manage to _blush_ when you see the way he’s looking at you. There’s something helplessly carnal about it. One of his hands rise from your hip to hold your face softly in his hands.

Bucky indulges himself, allows another second to memorize the details of your face. The flutter of your eyelashes, and the anticipation and devotion in your irses, and the alluring pout just begging to be kissed away. He wants to remember all of it: your steadily increasing heartbeat; how your breathing changes.

The quiet between your bodies is nothing like you’ve experienced. It beats unrelentingly like water thundering against a dam, too staggering to be held in place. The walls weaken against the power of the waves, as he draws you closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world and holds your lips captive against his.

The gentle touch of his hands and the scent of dark orchids filling your senses has you floating. He gives, and gives, and gives, but he also _takes_. You draw your arms up further to encircle them around his shoulder, forgetting everything else as he kisses you. But, when he does pull away for a moment to breathe, you hear yourself gasp.

He’s impossibly beautiful with his swollen lips and darkened eyes and pink cheeks. A prideful possessiveness grips your chest, and like clockwork, the moment grows more potent yet. He growls when he sees you, metal fist bunching at the material on your hips and just like that, the walls of the dam crash down and the ocean’s current surges up, billowing and dousing you both. 

He tugs your back to his lips with half the finesse and twice the fervor as before, a desperate need to kiss you breathless overtaking him. You pour in every minute of the decades you’d spent wishing for him, adding some details from all the time you’d spent fantasizing about the taste of his lips. He shudders against you as your drag your tongue over the plushness of his bottom lip, too occupied by Bucky’s  _everything_  for air. You can do nothing but cling to him and moan and  _melt_ under him, unknowingly plunging his fire with gasoline.

You blossom at his lips touch, opening up for whatever he’s willing to gift to you.

There’s an obscene sound of lips meeting over and over, and it’s all so  _public._  Anyone could walk through the floor corridor and see you and Bucky a little too engrossed in each other. But, God help you, you didn’t care.

Centuries pass before Bucky even thinks about pulling away. He had found a new home in your lips, nothing but your touch and your sounds in his head. No doubts, no monsters, just bliss.

His chest heaves as you two separate, eyes still closed in hopes of immortalizing the moment for a second longer.

“Look at me, James,” You insist, coaxing them open with a quick peck. He cracks one eye open skeptically.

“I’m not dreamin’?” He asks cautiously, causing you to grin. You shake your head, playing along for the moment. “Then, how on god’s green earth did I manage to sneak an angel into my arms?” Your grin burst into peals of laughter. It looked like all the needed were a few kisses to usher all that charm back up to the surface.

“You’re ridiculous.” You announce, trying to take a step back and away from his arms, only for him to hold you tighter and draw you back to his chest.

“Runnin’ away so soon, darlin?” He asks, pouting exaggeratedly, rubbing his palm up and down your back and eliciting a soft purr from you. This time, he grins. “You just got here. Stay a little longer, would ya?”

“I’ll stay as long as you like.”

* * *

Ever since your kiss, it’s like the floodgates had opened.

You couldn’t walk into a room without Bucky’s hands finding their way to your hip or his lips to your temple. The others complained and claimed they found it sickening, but there was no mistaking the discreet smiles on their faces every time Bucky stared dreamily up at you or every time you slid your hands into his.

When you bring this up to tease him, his indignance is rather comical.

“You smell nice,” He argues somewhat defensively. “N’ you’re soft.” You melt at this, leaning forward to press a kiss onto his nose, heart soaring at the grin it draws from him: tinting his cheeks and making his nose scrunch up adorably.

Although in public he was a bit more reserved, there was a certain purity and charm in the way he would always find a way to keep in connection with you. There was no way to avoid the stares when you walk in public, but with him by your side, the burden somehow becomes a little easier. Living in a place like New York is a big part of it, you imagine; the city moves so fast that no one has time for the two anomalies drifting by beside them.

One thing you found out Bucky enjoyed were walks, but one thing he loved even more?Motorcycles.

“Since when do you have a motorcycle?” You ask, a hand propped against your hip, and an entertaining mix of concern and surprise on your face. Bucky just laughs in response, and revs the bike from his seat, grinning.

You roll your eyes.  _Show-off._

“This one I’ve only had for a little while, but, Y/N… she’s everythin’. I know we’re new, but it feels so right.” He false sobs in typical, Shakespearean-era, thespian fashion, and stroking the red chrome finish on the motor and making a hugging motion towards the handles. You crack a grin at his antics, rolling your eyes.

“Should I give you two the room?” You suggest, earning a bark of laughter from him.

“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart. You’ll always be my number one.” He smiles that charming little smile that has your heart skipping.

“Yeah, well, your number one isn’t getting on that anytime soon.” You assert defiantly, having absolutely no desire to get on the behemoth of a motorcycle. Bucky narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah? What’re you, chicken?”

Long story short: you ended up on the motorcycle.

But,  _only_  because you’ve been looking forward to this spending the night with Bucky. Plus, New York rarely ever graced it’s residents with a somewhat warm winter night, therefore, you had no other choice but to climb onto the vehicle behind Bucky. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Not because Bucky looked delectable and inviting in black YSL [OUTERWEAR](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.ssense.com%2Fen-us%2Fmen%2Fproduct%2Fsaint-laurent%2Fblack-shearling-collar-jacket%2F2225097%3Fgclid%3DCj0KCQiAyNjRBRCpARIsAPDBnn2D_QKptoq4iN5pPpslGY3N1e3gGdNtSKVy2SQapc8F4kIp62Ei8mMaAiA0EALw_wcB&t=ZTQ4ZDZjNmRhMjEyMWQ3OGMxOWZlMzRiYWIxYmY3NmZhMWU3ZmI0MSxVWFM3YTNwVA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApCA0l4XkydLrEVNrZmLCag&p=http%3A%2F%2Fwhintersoldiers.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168970995766%2Fhomecoming-ch-xvi&m=1) that stretched immaculately around his deltoids and framed his torso perfectly, and most certainly  _not_  because he had a stupid, perfect smile and you couldn’t say no to him.

Despite it being warmer than normal, New York in winter is unforgiving in it’s atmosphere. Chilly winds sneak their way up your spine and spread along your cheeks, forcing you to wrap your arms tighter around Bucky and bury your face into the buttery leather of his jacket, pleasantly surprised at the delicateness of the material and the cologne that greets you as you do so.

The shearling collar tickles your face and you feel his chest rumble with laughter as you somehow scoot closer yet, wrapping your arms tighter around his middle and whimpering at the cold.

“Open your eyes a little, baby,” He coos softly, as you two meet a stoplight. “You’re missing it all.” You force one eye open, a gust of air leaving you as you take in the city lights in all their splendor. You’d seen it all before, but the city during wintertime was something worth taking in every time. He grins, face twisted backwards to watch your reaction, as the traffic begins to move.

He hadn’t divulged the details about where you two would be going tonight, only telling you to keep your night free for him and to wear something snug. For a moment, you had hoped that it would be close enough so that you’d only have to endure the ride for a few minutes at most. And now, flying through the highway streets, you find yourself wishing that the destination would never come.

You’re content to watch the city lights shift and glimmer against the darkness with his back to your front, the night zephyr blowing your hair back, and a blooming contentment in your chest. Once the adrenaline dies down, however, you realize you could fall asleep like this. Bucky’s figure rising and falling slowly with every breath, stomach and ribs tangible and warm beneath your splayed fingertips.

Your eyelashes begin to flutter closed just as Bucky parks the motorcycle, jolting you out of your stupor. He hops off, murmuring an apology into the shell of your ear and helping you climb down.

“Not too bad, right?” He asks, as he begins to lead you down a park trail. His half-grin lets you know that he knows exactly how much you enjoyed the ride here, so you check his shoulder lightly, rolling your eyes and smiling.

“Tell me where we’re going first, and then maybe i’ll tell you,” You bargain, indicating towards the street you two were approaching lined by trees and a few lights. His eyes sparkle, but he says nothing, drawing you along a little faster.

You two reach a large, double-iron gate secured with a large chain-mailed lock. To your surprise, Bucky produces a key from his pant pocket, and unlocks the gate, making it open with a deafening squeal. Luckily, there don’t seem to be anyone else around.

“Are we supposed to be here?” You question skeptically, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. There’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, but he doesn’t reply, just shrugging instead.

 _Great._ One hour with Bucky and you’re already an accessory to a crime.

You walk a little further before you’re greeted by a grove of trees packed tightly together, branches blanketing onto each other. Vertical walkway lights extend from the bases of the trees, illuminating a classic red picnic blanket housing a wicker basket and a few blankets and pillows, and a telescope rooted to the ground a few feet away.

“Oh, Bucky,” You sigh dreamily, hand wrapping tighter around his and leaning into him a bit. “Did you do all of this?”

“I had a little help,” He admits sheepishly. “What do you think?” He hides it well, but you can still see the trepidation in his irises. “It’s not too much?”

Realistically, this romantic gesture is a little different from the way the two of you have communed in the past, and for a split, terrible second, you worry about the trivial, ridiculous things: like how you should act now, what you should say. But, with changes come unfamiliar territory– and there’s no one else you’d rather navigate it with.

“It’s perfect.” You say, leaning up to kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

And it’s the truth.

* * *

You’ve never laughed harder in your life. You’re sure of it.

With no one else around, Bucky is someone else entirely. He doesn’t talk quite like the Bucky you had met, but he doesn’t act quite like the Bucky that was forced under HYDRA’s thumb either. He just… is, and in that moment, unapologetically so. Every one of his words, holds purpose or truth or something worth saying– and many times, it makes giggles burst forth from your lungs without fail.

One stupid, absurd thing he does when you laugh, is  _smile._ He smiles like he’s got the the brightest star living right in his chest, sunbeams shining through his eyes and skin. It’s impossible not to notice; every time you laugh or press your lips together to contain a fit of cackles, without fail, his lips curve right up and his eyes soften like he’s just seen his favorite flower bloom.

You find he knows quite a bit about stars too. Inside the basket, alongside a wonderful bottle of Cheval-Blanc and paninis he promised he had made himself, was an iPad. Through the magic of the 21st century, he’s able to pull up a map of stars, speaking on the history and the formation of the stars, and then letting you see the real thing for yourself through the telescope.

You could listen to him talk for hours.

Very rarely would Bucky be considered an animated person. He speaks mostly in deep or hushed tones, colossal shoulders drawn in some, hands most likely at his sides. But, when he speaks of the myths of the greek or the backstories of the sparkling galaxies in the sky, he comes alive.

He apologizes when he realizes he hasn’t taken a moment to breathe in all his excitement, glancing at you shyly.

“Sorry, I’m-i’m ramblin’ aren’t I?” He chuckles a little at your indignant response as you deny it instantly. “Thanks for puttin’ up with an old man like me.” It takes all your willpower not to narrow your eyes at him, so you sigh a world-wearied sigh instead.

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it,” You flop over, head landing in his lap as you place your hand over your eyes so your wrist faces the sky theatrically. “But, I’m  _clearly_ only with you for your good looks. No one else can make a hundred and one look as sexy as you do.” He shakes his head in amused disbelief, muttering something akin to _‘good enough for me, sweetheart’_  and taking your wrist and bending low to press a long, lingering kiss at your pulse. For some reason, this makes your heartbeat rise more than anything else he’s done before in the night.

You’re not sure how long you’re there- long enough to chug the whole bottle of wine, evidently- but you know it’s time to go home when the street lamps at the corner of the park begin to shut off from inactivity. The two of you pack everything into the now-empty basket and begin to walk back to the bike, never straying too far from each other.

He straps the items to the back securely before straddling the motorcycle with an effortlessness that makes you huff. He grins at you, and holds out his hand. You raise an eyebrow, but take it anyway, mouth poised for some smart retort, but gasping instead when he tugs gently and  _lifts_ you, so you’re seated on the bike in front of him, your back to the handlebars.

“Bucky!” You swat at his chest.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” He assures you, squeezing your hips once as proof. His voice turns serious. “Yeah… I’ve got you. Christ, you’re the sweetest thing i’ve ever had; don’t know what I did to deserve somethin’ as perfect as you.”

_Oh._

“Um.” You manage diligently.

There is very little room for personal space, your legs resting over his thighs and his hands massage the skin of your waist over your sweater. A smug little smile manifests on his lips at your response, watching as you slide a little over the gas tank towards him.

He stares at you for a long moment.

“Am I crazy for saying I missed you?” You ask. He looks surprised to hear this.

“You’ve seen me ‘most everyday for the past couple of months,” He reminds you, not quite understanding where you were coming from. Your smile softens a little, as you try to explain. His hands tighten some over your waist and stroke encouragingly. 

“Missed you for a lot longer than that,” You mutter quietly, gaze dropping down. He inhales sharply, finally understanding. He whispers your name, coaxes your line of sight back up to his smiling face. 

Your hands rise from his biceps, where you had initially grabbed while being practically manhandled into the seat. Your cradle his jaw between your hands, tilting your face to kiss him.

This kiss is different, a slow insistence upon your tongue. This kiss is eloquent, articulate: saying everything Bucky couldn’t explicate to you with his words. This kiss is a reunion, a subatomic release of energy, a long awaited communion of the two strangers that had met at a library.

The sensations that charge across your spine, leaving warmth locked into each knob of your spine, has nothing to do with the night air, but with the way Bucky works his mouth against yours. His kisses soothe and burn at the same time, the gentle presses of his lips making you yearn for him even more. You clutch at the base of his neck, moaning against his tongue.

He tastes like merlot and you want to drown yourself in him.

He pins you with his gaze as he pulls away, and you’re unable to move like a cornered gazelle. He really is too sexy for his own good.

You feel his hand run down from your middle, over your hip to your calf and hitching it over his waist to somehow bring you  _closer._

His lips part automatically as he leans in to kiss you again, and this time you don’t want to do anything but let him take. You want him so much it’s ridiculous, head swimming with the intensity of his kiss. But, he doesn’t linger on your lips for long, instead kissing his way down over the cut of your jaw to the malleable flesh over your collarbone.

What you didn’t know is that he had been watching your neck the whole night, slowly but surely planning his mode of attack like some sort of cryptic vampire. What you didn’t know was that he wanted to kiss your neck until he was drunk from it.

He was unrelenting in his attack too, the goddamned  _menace_. Kissing every inch of skin he could possibly reach, and lingering in the places where you released even the smallest of gasps; bringing out some blasphemous  _‘total war’_  tactic. He grazes at the delicate skin with his teeth before soothing over it shamelessly with his tongue until you mewled and whimpered for him. For more.

 _What nice little sounds,_  he thinks to himself. He’ll bite there again, he thinks. 

Just when you’re about to shove his shoulders back to dish up some of his own medicine, you feel a distant but bright source of light in your eye. You squint, looking over at the direction of origin, when you see someone jogging towards you and Bucky. Or, running, rather. Quite quickly. 

“ _Hey!_ You two are trespassing!” Bucky looks at you with slight alarm, helping you get off to reposition your body behind him. He shoves in the kickstand, revving the motorcycle. “This park is closed to the public after until morning!” The park ranger screams from behind you two as you begin to race away.

“Sorry cheif!” Bucky hollers, saluting him quickly before making a clean getaway with you losing it behind him.

Your guffaws draw tears at the corners of your eyes, Bucky proceeding to crack up.

“We just got caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers!” You gasp between your laughter. This makes Bucky snort, chest rumbling as the sound reverberates throughout him. For the life of you, you can’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it.

“Think he was more upset by that than us trespassing on the property?” He giggles. You shake your head with a smile, chuckling with your forehead rested against his back.

“You’re a terrible influence, James Barnes.”

“I’ve heard the chicks dig bad boys,” He deadpans. 

“I think the chick behind you right now digs you no matter what.”

He says nothing, but you’re sure that if the smile on his face grew any bigger it would split his face in half.

* * *

For Bucky, he just couldn’t justify you living in a whole another building when there was more than plenty of room at Stark Tower, where you had your own  _floor_. But, more importantly, he didn’t like the idea of you not being in close proximity to him at all times, even if your hypothetical new dwelling would be just a short train ride away.

“You’ve got all you need right here, don’t ya? You’re protected here, you’re  _happy_  here.” Bucky appeals to you, pleading eyes peering up at you, unblinking. He swallows.  _“Right?”_

He tries to be understanding, he really does, but he can’t help the word vomit when you bring this up to him again.

“Of course,” You reassure him, bending at your core to place a kiss at his temple, and running your fingers through his hair a little more. He twists his whole body on the sofa, face turning so it buries into your stomach. He whines a little, and wraps his arms tighter around your middle. “But, Bucky, it’s just a matter of my comfort. I’ve barely ever handled living with one person, let alone 8 or more. I know I can trust them with my life, it’s just… a lot for me. A little overwhelming. When I step into this building it certainly feels inviting and relaxing, but not like home just yet.”

“I know I’m bein’ selfish, but I just want you near me all the time.” He murmurs, a little like he’s embarrassed to be admitting it.

“It’s not like you’d never see me again, silly,” You say, stroking over the soft skin of his eyelids as his eyes flutter shut. “But, my own little corner, I can focus on DIVISION’s reopening and at least try to live a life- with some semblance of normalcy- that I was meant to live before Lafayette got a hold of me. I need to do this for me. At least for a little while.” He nods.

“I was kind of hoping you’d forget after that first week of livin’ here,” He mentions with a sheepish smile. You laugh.

“Think I kind of did,” You answer truthfully. “You can be a very distracting person.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Well, don’t blame me for being irresistible,” He says, cracking a grin. You look at him, half-scandalized at his audacity, whacking him lightly with a throw pillow. “Hey! Ouch!”

“I’m not going to finish this movie with you if you keep being this insufferable.” You threaten emptily, both of you knowing you’d never make Bucky get up from his comfortable position. As a matter of fact, you were quite content to be all wrapped by Bucky.

“You love me.”

“Maybe, but you’re on thin ice, Buchanan.”

* * *

You’re awakened the next minute by F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice greeting you. You rub at your eyes and yawn, realizing the weight on your lap is Bucky’s head, peacefully snoring away. You lift your body up a little from the couch, groaning at the soreness at your neck and the pinpricks spreading throughout your body as you move around. Bucky grumbles in protest, arms wrapping tighter around you persistently.

You shouldn’t find it as adorable as you do.

You manage to untangle yourself from the tangle of limbs with some effort, slipping away from his warm, inviting clutches. FRIDAY gives you the days stats as you walk to the bathroom to complete your morning routine.

“The day will be quite cold, temperatures dropping to the negatives by midday. I advise a hot cup of coffee to regulate internal temperatures if you decide not to use your abilities.”

“Outside?” You yawn. You hadn’t made plans to go anywhere today.

“Yes, there is a gentleman outside in the lobby waiting for you. He refused to identify himself to anyone but you, and although facial recognition has revealed who he is, he insisted on revealing his identity himself.” You frown. Who could it be? The landlord you had spoken to about the apartment you had an eye on?

“He is not armed, and proves to be of no threat. Would you like to know who he is?” 

“No, thanks, FRIDAY. I’ll go find out now.”

“The coffee?” FRIDAY suggests.

“I’ll skip on the coffee for now,” You tell FRIDAY, pulling your hair up and making yourself look somewhat presentable before descending onto the first floor to see what was so important.

When you reach the lobby, a man practically jumps out of the waiting bench to stand. You approach him somewhat wearily, trying to identify where you could know him from. But, you’re sure you don’t know him.

“Hello,” You greet. “Can I help you?”

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N.” He says, smiling. “My name is Richard Grayson.” He holds out his hand. You shake it, waiting for him to elaborate. He takes a deep breath, staring at your hands and then you for a moment. A small ghost of a smile passes his face. 

“Do we know each other?”

“Uh… not really.” He answers. You raise your eyebrows, and he chuckles. “Sorry, I- I mean no. But, I had to come and meet you for myself.”

“Why is that?” You questioned, not catching on. You cross your arms, not amused by his evasive nature. He seems to know something you don’t. He inhales slowly.

“Because, my grandfather was Carter Grayson. And, I believe he meant something to you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy guys... Sorry for making you guys wait 4 months, LMAO. Unbeta'd as always. :) I would say there's one or two more chapters left! Leave comments as to what you think will happen/if you liked, so I can push through and actually finish a story for once. ＾∇＾


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